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PRACTICAL LIFE 



AND 



The Study of Man, 



BY 



J. WILSON, Ph. D., 

Author of "Errors of Grammar," "Practical Grammar,"' "Phra- 
sis : a Treatise on the History and Structure of the Dif- 
ferent Languages of the "World," " Religion as 
Seen by the Light of the Nineteenth 
Century," Etc., Etc. 



* 




NEWARK, NEW YORK : 
J. Wilson & Son, Publishers. 

1882. 



b:q« 



3\ 



.W54 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1882, by 

J. Wilson & Son, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress. 



TO 

His Son, 

JACOB WILSON, Jr., 

FOR 

HIS SUCCESS IN PRINTING 

AND 

HIS DEVOTION TO THE ART, 

THIS WORK 

is 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

BY 

HIS FATHER, THE AUTHOR. 



INTRODUCTORY. 



The object of this work is neither to amaze nor amuse 
the reader, but to interest and instruct those who are seek- 
ing improvement. There is very little in it, perhaps, that 
is new to every one, but the thoughts and reflections it. 
embodies are brought forward in such novel connec- 
tions, and they are presented in such unusual forms, that,, 
even if the sentiments are found to be old, the application 
will doubtless appear to be new. The leading object of 
the writer is to do good to his fellow man, and if he fails 
in his purpose, he will a£ least claim the credit of having 
done the best that he could. It has not been his aim, in 
this book, to appear either original or brilliant. It was- 
his design simply to bring to the notice of the reader, on 
the subjects which have been considered, the best thoughts 
that could be found in the language, and wherever he has 
discovered his ideas already in print, expressed in 
language better than he could write, or even as well, he 
has not deemed it either necessary or proper to write 
them anew, but has adopted the language of the author 
without change, believing as he does that we cannot make 
a thought ours by clothing it in our own words, nor lose 
our claim to originality by finding that some other writer 
has been possessed of similar conceptions. Where the 
author is known, due credit has uniformly been given. 

The author is quite well aware that he is unfortunate 
in the title he has been compelled to adopt for the work 
To make it sell well,, he should have had some such title 
as this: "Scandals in High Life;" "Experience of a 



11 INTRODUCTORY. 

Detective;" "Success without Effort;" "Adventures of 
■Capt. Kidd ;" " Money-making Made Easy ;" " Fun, Frolic 
and Fashion," &c, &c. But of course the title must have 
some relation to the contents of the work, and he has not 
been able to avail himself of any of these " taking titles," 
or "startling announcements." Indeed, this work has not 
been written to sell. Of course, he would be glad enough 
if it proves to be popular and salable, but that was not 
the primary object for which the work was written. If it 
is bought, it must be by those who like the plain truth, 
on plain matters, in plain language, by one who speaks 
with freedom, candor and independence. 

The author hopes that the reader will find that this 
work contains some sound and serviceable philosophy. 
It is too much to expect that those who read it will en- 
dorse all it contains, but even where it is not endorsed, he 
trusts it may be found at least worthy of serious consid- 
eration. "What is here written will be found to come un- 
der at least one of the two heads, " Practical Life " or " The 
Study of Man." The author has endeavored to set forth 
the motives by which men are governed, so that, under- 
standing men, those who pass through life may become 
more successful in their own careers. 

The author has purposely waited till a late period of life, 
past fifty years, in order that, with practical experience and 
a matured judgment, he might speak with confidence, as 
well as intelligence, on a subject of such grave and lasting 
importance. Few men have seen more of life in a half 
century than the writer of this book. He has followed 
•quite a number of different occupations, and been fairly 
•successful in all of them. His study from his youth down 
to the present time has been : Life, and the Nature of 
Man. If he may seem to have written much on these sub- 
jects, it is because he feels that he knows much that ought 
to be written. If he may seem to speak with energy and 
assurance, it is because he has studied what he says, and 
has confidence in his statements. 



PRACTICAL LIFE 



AXD 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 



THE STUDY OF LIFE. 

We can conceive of no study more important tq man 
than how to live, : and yet it is almost the last study that 
men think of. People allow themselves to drift along 
listlessly through life, and never busy themselves with 
questions of this kind till death comes with its summons 
and renders all experience and instruction valueless. In- 
stead of profiting by the lessons of those who have gone 
before them, they seldom learn, except from the mistakes 
they themselves have made. The great subjects, how to 
prolong life, how to preserve health, how to live happily,, 
how to live usefully, how to rear strong and intelligent 
children, how to become independent, how to become in- 
fluential, — all these, and many kindred subjects, give man- 
kind very little concern. And yet all would agree that 
the business of life should never be undertaken except by 
those who are prepared for the struggle. They should 
understand the obstacles they are to meet, and know how 
they are to be overcome. They should know the ways 
and walks of men, and have learned the best ways of deal- 
ing with them. 



PRACTICAL LIFE AND 



But it is a lamentable fact that men would rather be 
diverted than instructed; they care more for some trifling 
amusement, some senseless and useless pastime, than they 
do about the soundest piece of philosophy or the wisest 
bit of counsel. 



CRITICISM. 



If on Parnassus' top you sit, . 

You rarely bite, are always bit. 

Each poet of inferior size 

On you shall rail and criticise, 

And strive to tear you limb from limb, 

While others do as much for him. 

It is as natural for people to criticise as to eat or breathe, 
and for aught we know, is as healthy and useful With- 
out criticism, there can be no excellence. Open, honest 
and manly criticism, by one who is qualified to decide, is 
a valuable aid to any one who desires to excel. Without 
criticism, we should never perceive our faults, and prob- 
ably should not even appreciate our excellencies. Severe 
criticism, even if not wholly deserved, is generally found 
a most useful medicine. Nothing can be more beneficial 
to any one than to be taught to know his weak points, and 
this is the office that criticism comes to perform. It helped 
Wordsworth wonderfully, and it has saved many a young 
author before and since. Perhaps the critic is unfriendly 
or envious. If so, that is all the better for us, for then 
the truth he will speak will be all the plainer. We cer- 
tain^ need .not look to our friends expecting they will 
speak in our hearing an unpleasant, though an honest 
truth. , Harsh criticism is by no means a pleasant remedy 
to take, but it sharpens many a man's wit and gives a new 
soul to many a dull body. 

But criticism may be so severe, so cruel, so undeserved, 
that it may kill rather than cure. It may be a sharper 
medicine than the patient can bear. Dr. Hawkesworth 
died of too much criticism, and the sufferings endured by 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 3 

such men as Pope, Byron and others, at the hands of merci- 
less critics, who shall measure ? 

People will criticise, whether they understand the sub- 
ject or not, for there is nothing in the world that gratifies 
-a man more than to express his opinion. What he does 
not know, he usually thinks he knows, and that answers 
every purpose. A book containing all the blunders and 
absurdities of critics would be a large, -interesting and per- 
haps useful volume. The extent and accuracy of knowl- 
edge on the part of some critics is well illustrated by the 
following anecdote : A painter who had been censured 
for not taking good likenesses when he painted portraits, 
was piqued at the criticisms of his friends, and wished to 
ascertain whether the fault was really on his side or not. 
He informed them on one occasion that he had finished a 
portrait of a person they knew perfectly well, which, as he 
flattered himself, w r as nature itself. They all hastened, of 
course, to see the picture, and all, without hesitation, pro- 
nounced it to be one of the very worst attempts he had 
ever made at a likeness. " You are mistaken, friends," 
•said a voice from the head of the picture, ''it is myself." 
"These words were spoken by the person who had entered 
into the stratagem of the painter, and put his head through 
the canvass. 

When Cowper's poems were first published by John- 
son, the bookseller, they were so fiercely attacked by the 
■critics that the public was either frightened or misled, and 
the sale of the book was practically ended. But, not dis- 
heartened, this sound bookseller afterwards published the 
"Task," by the same author. Soon after this poem ap- 
peared, the whole tone of criticism changed, and Cowper s 
Poems came to be in great demand. 

When Pope was first introduced to read his Iliad to 
Lord Halifax, the noble critic did *not venture to be dis- 
satisfied with so perfect a composition ; but this passage 
and that word, this turn and that expression, formed the 
broken cant of his criticisms. The honest poet was stung 
with vexation : for, in general, the parts at which his lord- 



4 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

ship hesitated were those with which he was most satisfied.. 
As he returned home with Samuel Garth, he revealed to- 
him his anxiety of mind. " 0," replied Garth, laughing, 
"you are not so well acquainted with his lordship as my- 
self; he must criticise. At your next visit, read to him 
those very passages as they now stand ; tell him that you 
have recollected his criticisms; and I'll warrant you of 
his approbation of them. This is what I have done a. 
hundred times my self/' Pope did as he was advised ; the 
stratagem took, like the marble dust of Angelo ; and my 
lord exclaimed, "Dear Pope, they are now inimitable. ' r 
And so they were. 



PKECEDENT. 

The power which precedent exerts over men is simply 
amazing. The settlement of all cases w T hich is made by 
appeals to the law is based upon precedent, and hence is 
not so much a declaration of what is felt to be just and 
proper in the case in question, as a comparison of the 
features of that case with one that happened perhaps five 
hundred years ago, and which is supposed to be similar. 
Indeed, all law, as we find it in our books, is but little 
more than a record of accumulated precedents. It is really 
surprising to see how fearful the wisest and strongest of 
men are of doing something against precedent, something 
that nobody ever wished or dared to do before them. 
"Human reason has so little confidence in itself," to quote 
the words of De Finod, "that it always looks for a prece- 
dent to justify its decrees." If a man should go into 
church and forget to take off his hat, he would be greatly 
shocked when he came to realize his unfortunate situation. 
But if he should look around and find one or two others 
in the same sad predicament, he would find himself greatly 
relieved, and might possibly be impelled to leave his hat 
on his head, where it properly belonged. All fashion is 
merely the following of a precedent, the copying of some 



THE STUDY OF MAN. O 

other one's works, the repeating, generally, of some other 
one's whims. 

We are doing every day an hundred things only because 
we have done them before, or seen them done by some- 
body else. Who shall estimate the power which one crime 
as a precedent has to induce the commission of the same 
crime by some other person, at some other time? The 
breaking of one glass in a building, by some reckless or 
willful boy, is a strong temptation for a dozen other 
boys to break another glass when they find an opportunity 
offers. The best illustration is to be found in the case of 
the first forged note of the Bank of England. The day 
on which this note was presented at the bank forms a 
memorable period in its history. "For sixty-four years 
the establishment had circulated its paper .with freedom, 
and during that period no attempt had been made to imi- 
tate it He who takes the initiative in a new line of 
wrong-doing has more than the simple act to answer for, 
and to Kichard William Vaughan, a Stafford linen draper, 
belongs the melancholy celebrity of having led the van in 
this new phase of crime, in the year 1758. The records 
of his life do not show want, beggary, or starvation urging 
him, but a simple desire to seem greater than he was. By 
one of the artists employed, and there were several en-" 
gaged on different parts of the notes, the discovery was 
made. The criminal had filled up to the number of 
twenty, and deposited them in the hands of a young lady, 
to whom he was attached, as a proof of his wealth. There 
is no calculating how much longer bank notes might have 
been free from imitation had this man not shown with 
what ease they might be counterfeited. From this period, 
forged notes became common." It would seem that one 
man's doing a thing should have nothing to do with an- 
other man's doing the same thing, or even something very 
similar. It would seem that the fact that a thing had been 
done should never be looked upon as any evidence that it 
was either proper or necessary, or that it was something 
that might be repeated again by others with impunity. 



6 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

And vet nothing is more common at the present day than 
to sec men justify all sorts of deviltry, and all kinds of 
villainy, on the plea that such things have been done be- 
fore, and by men full as good as they are. Satan is ever 
prompt with excuses, and this is a fair sample of the justi- 
fication he usually offers. "They all do it," he says, and 
this is expected to cover a multitude of sins. 



CURIOSITY. 



We are too curious about things that really should give 
us no concern whatever. It might be proper enough for 
us t o be curious to learn for the sake of learning, or for 
the sake of improving, but this seeing for the mere sake 
of seeing, or to say we have seen, so common in all sta- 
tions and all ranks in this world, is what we would most 
severely condemn. It is idle and vain to be curious to 
see simply what a man can do, or to see perhaps what 
nature herself will do when she happens to go amiss. , 

Curiosity has brought many a wily fox to a sad and 
premature end. A fox that is too curious to see and ex- 
amine what appears to him curious and strange, should 
'not complain if he has to suffer the pain that frequently 
follows such experiments. It is often dearly bought 
knowledge that we gain by our efforts to satisfy what can 
only be called a morbid curiosity. Again, many things 
may do us no harm to know, but they are absolutely use- 
less. What difference does it make to us how far, for in- 
stance, Jupiter may be from us, or who inhabits it, or 
how the people appear, if people there are ? What differ- 
ence does it make to us how many sands there are upon 
the sea-shore, or how much clear water there is around the 
North Pole, or how many fishes there may be in the Black 
Sea ? Our curiosity to see monsters is of the same sense- 
less, useless character. Indeed, we suspect that curiosity 
has done this world thus far more harm than good. If 
Mother Eve, we know, had not been so curious to see how 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 



the apple tasted, and what effect its eating would have, 
the human race would never have fallen, as it is supposed 
to have fallen, through the sin which its maternal ancestor 
committed. 



STRATEGY. 

"Palmerston saw what men were in the mood to do, 
and he did it ; and they were clear that that must be a 
great leader who led them just whither they felt inclined 
to go. " — Mc Cavtliy. 

There are arts by which we reach the hearts of men, 
and artifices by which we mould them to our purposes. 
The human heart is an engine to be operated and con- 
trolled like other engines. No one can tell how the 
machine is managed, without indicating more or less of 
the character of its construction and the principles of its 
action. Art and science go together; science precedes 
art ; art only follows where science points the way. To 
show how man acts, or how he is made to act, is to show 
also what man is. 

We speak of the art of managing men, and we use the 
term advisedly. There are at least two ways of passing 
from the cradle to the grave. If your boat upsets, and 
tumbles you into the stream, you have one of two courses 
left. You may paddle a little, keep up your head, and 
the violence of the current itself will in the end land you 
at some port ; but whether it will be at the bottom, or on 
some desert island, or at some place where help may reach 
you, is a matter which in this case chance alone can deter- 
mine. On the other hand, if you have a little art, a little 
training and suitable strength, you may call forth your 
will, stretch out your arms, exert your muscles, and thus 
in a brief time, with the requisite exertion and a proper 
direction, reach the nearest land. He who is content to 
glide down the river of life as an empty tub, will oftener 
go down to the bottom, or be dashed against the rocks, 
than reach a harbor of safety. No, indeed ; he who would 



S PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

not be rocked and tossed at the -mercy of chance, must 
put up his sails, keep watch of the winds, and hold fast to 
the helm. He who launches out into the broad ocean with- 
out art and without science, will either learn them by ex- 
perience and misfortune, or be lost in the first storm that 
overtakes him. He who imagines that man can pass 
through this world without effort, without art, without 
will, without direction, has seen, we are sure, but little of 
it This life is for us one continual conflict ; everything 
is opposed to us, everything is at war with us. Every 
living being must struggle for existence. If it will live, 
it must eat ; and if it will eat, it must destroy. Two arch 
enemies are continually on our flanks — starvation on one 
side, and disease on the other ; we have death in the front, 
and that bold guerrilla, Satan, in the rear. 

Nothing can be more aptly named than when we call 
this the battle of life. It is more terrible than other bat- 
tles, for it never ends ; it is fiercer than other battles, for it 
is the struggle for existence. In the forest, in the sea, in 
the air, this contest is raging. Like the eternal fires of 
Vesuvius, it sometimes slumbers, but only to break forth 
at some future time with the greater fury. Those desolat- 
ing wars which now and then sweep over the earth, are 
only bloody and noisy stages of this same eternal conflict. 

Who thinks that tactics and strategy are out of place in 
such a contest ? It is enough that we find them both here, 
and better tactics and strategy than we find in some of the 
battles of our greater wars. If good strategy redounds to 
the credit of a great general, if it is that which gives him 
his chief recommendation, we are not able to see why it 
may not as well pass to the credit of the master and man- 
ager of the human conduct. 



BOLDNESS. 



The first great element in the character of any strategist 
is boldness. Boldness startles a man with what he least ex-' 
pects ; it comes upon him when and where he least expects 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 9 

it; it confounds and unnerves him. What did not bold- 
ness do for General Lee ? He more than once dared to do 
what no one expected of him, and he accomplished what 
his enemies never dreamed of. This very boldness and 
■daring is just as practicable and just as effective in civil as 
it is in military life. 

Who that has read the life of Mahomet, that poor friend- 
less lounger, who, in the end, became a god, does not know 
what boldness accomplished for him? And has the au- 
dacity, the effrontery, of Joe Smith, the Mormon, passed 
already from your minds? Why, even to-day, if some 
man should rise up in your town, and say he was a prophet, 
or the son of a prophet that he had found a Bible, had 
had a vision, or had become inspired from some source or 
other, he would certainly find plenty of silly people to fol- 
low him. And if, in addition, he should persist in it ; if 
he could get some Mend of his, by bribe or otherwise, to 
swear it was all so ; and if, above all, by some trick he 
could make it appear that he had iz>erforined some little 
miracle on his own account, his success would be certain 
and his fortune secured. 

With daring, to be successful, a man must have secrecy 
and prompt action. And what will not these three accom- 
plish ? What does it not accomplish in all the affairs of 
every-day life ; in the court room, in the political struggle, 
in the legislative hall, in every case where an attack is 
made and a defense expected? He who heralds forth 
what he intends to do, who rises long after the sun is up, 
and proceeds with a slow and cadenced step to meet his 
foe, will always find that enemy ready to receive him, and 
in most instances he will march up the hill simply to have 
the pleasure of marching down again. Napoleon Bona- 
parte was a great general, and he accomplished mighty re- 
sults, but it was Napoleon who, above all other men, 
labored while his enemies slept, who attacked them where 
they least expected it, and who, when he first began, 
hurled forth his legions with a suddenness that threw his 
antagonists mto disorder, and routed them not so much by 



10 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

the numbers of his hosts, as by the velocity he gave them. 
It is this daring, this dexterity, this surprise, which we see 
vxvrx day making the weak triumph over the strong, and 
the few over the many. 

Boldness, in some of its transitions, becomes audacity 
and impudence. Who can be more impudent and au- 
dacious than the one who demands, with all the assurance 
of right, what never belonged to him? And how often 
does he succeed in the trick which he attempts ! And da 
you feel disposed to dispute the feasibility of his plan — 
has it not been done in this world a thousand times be- 
fore, and are you more secure against such knavery than 
your forefathers before you ? It will succeed, of course it 
will, from the mere novelty and absurdity of the thing, if 
from nothing else. 

How often the knave or the loafer says to you, "He'll 
stay with you to-night," or "he will dine with you to-mor- 
row," or "take the loan of five dollars," or "borrow 
your coat," or " take it as a gift ;" and you, poor fellow, be- 
fore you know what you are about, answer yes, the fatal 
yes, and the bargain is struck ? You were not expecting 
such an attack, you were unused to such sallies, and the 
very impudenoe and absurdity of the thing has put you, 
as the Frenchman says, out of condition to fight. These 
men that thus play upon you are such as yoii of your own 
accord would never have in your house ; and yet in your 
confusion you have admitted them to the place of a friend. 
There are plenty of these scamps in the world, and we 
have learned to know them at double range. Impudence 
is the knave's protection, his shield, his armor, his all — 
and still it is a quality that even the honest man cannot 
dispense witk Impudence can alone meet impudence. 
It is surprising what a large quantum of this article is 
needed to carry a man safely and successfully through the 
troubles and dangers of this world. A man without im- 
pudence where impudence is needed, is a poor unfortunate 
child, one that had better have been born in some honester 
world. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 11 



EMINENCE. 



O happy man. saith he. that lo! I see, 

Grazing his cattle in the pleasant fields. 
If he but knew his good. How blessed he 

That feels not what affliction greatness yields, 
Other than what he is he would not be. 

Nor change his state with him that sceptre wields. 

The possession of eminence is no exception to the rule 
that great blessings are always associated with great sor- 
rows, and that advantages and disadvantages, in all things, 
are pretty nearly equal. Men who stand high above other 
men are compelled to assume responsibilities which ex- 
ceed those of other men. One of the misfortunes of emi- 
nence is the certainty of having every secret exposed and 
every fault known If the President's wife happens to be 
cross-eyed, or the President himself have a wart on his 
face, or there be an unfortunate child in the family, or 
some other imperfection or misfortune over which envy 
can rejoice or malice can dilate, it will be only a few days 
after the inauguration before it is published in the news- 
papers and known over the whole country. The crime 
for which many a man has suffered is eminence, or rather 
pre-eminence over others. It was strikingly so with 
Marius, and it has been so more or less with every man 
who has been so fortunate, or unfortunate, as to be placed 
above his friends and acquaintances. It is something for 
which the best of men never will forgive "him — certainly 
not until he is hurled from his summit and brought 
down to a level with common men. Dr. Johnson once 
on being told that he had been shamefully caricatured, 
was not at all surly, as he sometimes was, but remarked : 
•• I am very glad to hear this. I hope the day will never 
arrive when I shall neither be the object of calumny nor 
ridicule, for then I know I shall be neglected and' for- 
gotten" 

The saddest illustration of the fact that all men are 
mortal, and that even the most eminent may draw their 
last breath under circumstances full as painful as the most 



12 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

indigent peasant, is to be found in the case of Pitt He 
died at a solitary house on Wimbledon Common. Not 
Ear off, by the roadside, stood, and still stands, a small 
country inn, where the various parties interested in the 
great statesman's life were accustomed to apply for in- 
formation, and leave their horses and carriages. On the 
morning of the 23d of January, 1806, an individual hav- 
ing called at the inn, and not being able to obtain a satis- 
factory reply to his inquiries, proceeded to the house of 
Pitt. He knocked, but no servant appeared; he opened 
the door and entered, but he found no one in attendance; 
he proceeded from room to room, and at length entered 
the sick chamber, where, on a bed, in silence and in perfect 
solitude, he found to his unspeakable surprise, the dead 
body of that great statesman who had so lately wielded 
the power of England, and influenced, if he did not con- 
trol, the destinies of the world. 



IGNORANCE AND LEARNING. 

We would not say broadly and unconditionally that 
" ignorance is bliss,'" or that "it is folly to be wise," but 
we do claim that ignorance offers far more advantages, 
and wisdom brings many more misfortunes, than most 
people suppose. Perhaps the pleasures and pains of ig- 
norance, and of wisdom too, will be found to be, when we 
carefully weigh them, pretty evenly balanced. What 
we know frequently causes us fears and apprehensions 
which are often unfounded, and generally afford us not 
the slightest benefit. Ignorance may lead us into dangers 
which we might with knowledge and accompanying pru- 
dence escape, but on the other hand, it gives us confidence, 
hope and a feeling of composure and satisfaction that can 
never be found in any amount of wisdom. Certain it is r 
ignorance affords as much happiness to man as can ever 
be secured by wisdom. As happy and contented a people 
as one ever saw were the stupid natives which Captain 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 13 

Alexander found in South Africa. He said he could 
make nothing out to show they had any, the most im- 
perfect, religious impressions. "Who made the sun?" he 
.asked them. "We don't know ; we are a stupid people ; we 
don't know anything,' 1 was the answer always. " Only let 
us get plenty to eat — that is all we care f or. " It must not be 
forgotten that through mere thirst for knowledge comes 
death as an inheritance. The Greeks tell us "there is 
a great deal of convenience in not being over- wise." It is 
said monkeys will not learn to talk for fear of being com- 
pelled to work. Certain it is, the more a man knows, and 
the more he can do, the more he is expected to accom- 
plish. The oldest and best book we have tells us that " in 
much wisdom there is much sorrow," and that "who gets 
wisdom, gets labor and sorrow.' 7 St. Paul tells us that 
"the simple and ignorant raise themselves up to heaven 
and take possession of it ; and we, with all our knowledge, 
plunge ourselves into the infernal abyss." The folly of 
what men conceive to be wisdom may be found in Corin- 
thians : — " I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and wall 
bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent. 
Where is the wise ? Where is the scribe ? Where is the 
disputer of this world ? Hath not God made foolish, the 
wisdom of this world ? For after that, in the, wisdom of 
Cod, the world knew not God, it pleased God by the 
foolishness of preaching to save them that believe." 
Conceit, that is, what men think they know, but do not 
know, does ten times more damage than was ever done- 
by ignorance. The wisest man the world ever pro- 
duced, Socrates, said that "he knew this, that he knew 
nothing." And Cicero says: "Something I must say, 
I)ut so as to affirm nothing. I inquire into all things, 
but for the most part in doubt and distrust of my. 
self." But as Montaigne truly says: "The ignorance 
that knows itself, judges and condemns itself, is not an 
absolute ignorance ; to be such, it must be ignorant of it- 
self : so that the profession of the fyrrhonians is to waver 
doubt, and inquire, not to make themselves sure of, or 
responsible for anything." 



14 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Yet wisdom is good — provided always that it really is 
wisdom, and the right kind of wisdom at that. The mere 
gratification of a morbid curiosity is not wisdom. Mental 
culture, as we have it in this, the Nineteeth Century, is- 
not wisdom. The mere storing of the mind with supposed 
facts, often untrue and generally useless, is not wisdom. 
Agesilaus, king of Sparta, being asked what he thought, 
most proper for boys to learn, replied very properly : 
" Those things which they ought to practice when they 
become men." And yet under the prevailing system of 
education, more particularly as furnished in our high 
schools and colleges, it is the last thing thought of. This, 
sort of education, as it is termed, is no recent development. 
As long ago as 1580, three hundred years since, Michael 
Montaigne wrote : " We only toil and labor to stuff the 
memory, and in the meantime leave the conscience and the 
understanding untrained and void. And like birds who 
fly abroad to forage for grain, and bring it home in their 
beak, without tasting it themselves, to feed their young, 
so our pedants go picking knowledge here and there out 
of several authors, and hold it at the tongue's end, only to 
distribute amongst their pupils." There were possibly 
giants in those days — schoolmasters they certainly had. 
And even further back, we learn from Seneca, that " they 
did not learn how to live, but how to dispute." 

Yet what is, or what should be, the great aim and study 
of life, if not to learn "how to live"? The same author 
that we have just quoted above, Montaigne, says: "It 
is not the proper business of knowledge to enlighten a 
soul that is dark of itself; nor to make a blind man see. 
Her business is not to find a man eyes, but to guide, 
govern and direct his steps, provided he has sound feet, 
and straight legs to go upon." This we understand to be 
the end and aim of true education. But mere training of 
the intellect, as we have it in our schools, does not effect 
this object To quote the words of Froude : "Intellectual 
culture does not touch the conscience." Or, as Herbert 
Spencer expresses it in his late work on Sociology : " All 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 15 

■see that for social welfare, good character is more impor- 
tant than much knowledge. And yet the manifest corol- 
lary is not drawn. What effect will be produced on char- 
acter by artificial appliances for spreading knowledge is 
not asked. Of the ends to be kept in view by the legis- 
lator, all are unimportant compared with the end of char- 
acter-making, and yet character-making is an end wholly 
unrecognized." 

With all our boasted free schools, all our learned men 
.and our richly endowed colleges all over this country, 
people are dying every year by thousands, solely for the 
want of a little knowledge. They have learning, perhaps, 
but that learning which is not knowledge. Even the poor 
■dumb beasts of the forest and field show more wisdom 
' than we do, especially in domestic matters. They make 
better matches when they select their mates, and their 
young are generally reared and educated more sensibly, 
more prudently than the children of the present day, in 
.some of the best families. As a general thing, men know 
too much and can do too little. What they know is fre- 
quently a damage to them. Learning, perhaps, has trained 
and cultivated the mind, but it has made a desert of the 
heart. Our schools and colleges are constantly sending 
out from their halls young men by hundreds who are at 
the same time both ignorant and helpless. 

Let us introduce here the picture of a learned man as 
"painted by himself. The writer is a graduate of Ox- 
ford, and the paragraph we copy is from the New York 
Herald of a recent date : 

"After having sunk several thousand dollars in a bad 
land purchase in New Jersey, I came to this city to make 
' earnest exertions ' for a livelihood. My pen has enjoyed 
a high reputation in both hemispheres. It had achieved 
success before I left the university. Its productions have 
received on more than one occasion the most flattering 
notice both in your editorial and critical columns. It is 
not a stranger to the columns of the Herald. Every most 
- earnest exertion ' a man could make I have made to sup- 



16 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

port my wife and myself. My ' reward ' is that, for the 
last twelve months, poverty has separated me from a wife 
I worship, whom I am unable to support — the keenest 
anguish the heart knows — and I, myself, have throughout 
this long, sad period of bereavement been continually 
threatened with starvation, which is now almost at my 
elbow." 

Ignorance makes willing subjects ; intelligence breeds 
arrogance, presumption and discontent, "A soul clear 
from prejudice has made a marvelous advance toward 
tranquility and repose. Men that judge and control 
their judges, do never fully submit to them. How much 
more docile and easy to be governed, both by the laws of 
religion and civil polity, are simple and incurious minds 
than over- vigilant wits, that will still be prating of divine 
and human causes." — Montaigne. And the same author 
observes : " Whoever will number us by our actions and 
deportments, will find many more excellent men amongst 
the ignorant than among the learned ; aye, in all sorts of 
virtue." This was written several hundred years ago, but 
is quite as true to-day. If one will examine into the pri- 
vate life of the learned men of this or any other country,, 
he will be sure to find some of the most unprincipled and 
most narrow-minded of the human family. We might 
give names, but it is not necessary. We do not pretend 
that this is the rule, but the exceptions are unpleasantly 
numerous. We have the word of so candid a man as. 
Samuel Smiles, in Character, that u intellectual capacity 
is sometimes found associated with the meanest moral 
character." And G-eorge Herbert tells us that "a handful 
of good life is worth a bushel of learning." 



THE BARBARITIES AND BRUTALITIES OF MAN.. 

We live in an enlightened age — at least so everybody 
says, and so almost everybody believes. We have had 
the light of the gospel for over eighteen hundred years. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 17 

We call ourselves, we the people of America and Europe 
alike — Christians : we claim to love Christ, and follow the 
teachings of Christ ; we are a sanctified people ; we spread 
abroad the light of our benign countenance and the influ- 
ence of our holy example, not only in our own country, 
but far away in distant heathen lands. 

But let us see what sort of folks these highly cultured 
and dearly beloved children of the Most High prove to 
be by their works. Let us see wherein they surpass 
the poor pagan whom they despise, and just how much 
purer and more perfect they are than those low barba- 
rians of the earth who have neither churches nor school 
houses, and whose early education therefore has been so 
sadly neglected. We will not take up individual cases, 
as these might seem to be phenomenal or exceptional, and 
hence, as evidence, objectionable. Let us, on the contrary, 
take men as they appear in the lump, and as they act in 
masses. Let us take whole nations, — not the wild Turk, 
or the Moldavians, or the Wallachians, or even the rude 
Cossacks of the Don. We will take Grermany or France, 
or better still, because nearer home, we will take England 
or America for illustration. 

The English are, perhaps, the most cultured, enlightened 
and Christian-like people on the globe. But what has 
been their history for the last hundred years, to go back 
no further ? Have they not swept over the whole earth 
like spirits of evil, desolating, destroying or devouring, 
burning or burying whatever came in their way ? They 
found the poor Indians in peaceable possession of the New 
World, something over three hundred years ago, and they, 
or their descendants, have waged an exterminating war 
against these children of the earth every hour since. They 
have done the same thing in every instance wherever they 
have found a feeble race unable to contend with them. 
They did so in Australia ; they did so in China, and more 
particularly so in India. Was there ever anything done, 
either by an individual or a nation, that was more villain- 
ous than what England did, when by sheer force of 



18 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

arms she compelled the Chinese to buy and eat 
opium, merely for the profits that might accrue to her 
from the commerce which the article afforded? The 
Chinese government protested, but protested in vain. 
England was strong, and her strength prevailed, as strength 
generally prevails. Within the last hundred years she 
has taken from China by the continued sale of this poison 
no less a sum than $800,000,000. What cares she what 
misery she causes, provided suitable dividends are real- 
ized? What does any man or any people care, who 
have the power, how much harm they do, if they can only 
secure the profits? We might dwell upon her course 
in the slave trade. We might refer to her treatment 
of the Afghans and Zulus ; but the limits of the arti- 
cle forbid. 

Let us quote what Justin McCarthy says of the treat- 
ment of the Sepoys of India by their English conquerors. 
" It is painful/' says this author, in referring to English 
feeling in regard to the rebellion, "that the talk was not of 
repression, but revenge. Public speakers and writers were 
shrieking out for the vengeance which must be inflicted on 
India when the rebellion had been put down." And what 
had these sensitive and superstitious Sepoys done ? Why, 
they had tried to become free, and endeavored to shake 
off the yoke of oppression that held them down to the 
dust, and were endeavoring to assert their manhood. Were 
they, with all their barbarities, all their crimes, worse than 
their English oppressors ? No, nor half so bad. They 
had some excuse for what they did — the English had none. 
But the English are no exception to the rule among en- 
lightened nations. The same spirit would^have manifested 
itself, and always has done so under similar circumstances, 
in France, in Germany, in America. It is not security 
that is demanded in such cases, but justice — a term which 
generally, with conquerors, is a synonym of vengeance. 
We might add in this connection that one distinguished 
officer went a little further than the rest, or rather ex- 
pressed his feelings more boldly, and was clamorous for 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 19 

authority from the English government to impale, burn 
alive, and flay the mutineers whenever they fell into his 
hands. He said that they had murdered English women, 
but even that was not proved. 

And how did the English treat Nana Sahib ? Of him 
McCarthy remarks, "It is a painful thing to say, but it is 
necessary for the truth of this history, that the wrongs of 
which he complained were genuine. He had been treated 
with injustice." This Nana Sahib was hunted, and when 
-caught, treated as a hyena — and all this for no other crime 
than his daring to contend for his rights, and - his strug- 
gling to secure the crown to which, by all rules of justice, 
he was fairly entitled. 

To continue Indian history a little further, let us refer 
to officer Hodgson. This English gentleman captured the 
royal princes of Delhi, and when he had them in his 
power, he tried, condemned and executed them himself, 
without either hesitation or ceremony. This was a mur- 
der as cold-blooded as any villain ever committed, and 
vet the historian informs us, apologetically, that officer 
Hodgson was a " brave and clever soldier." That might 
t>e said of many rascals of even higher standing than officer 
Hodgson. 

Where in the history of beings, whether brute or hu- 
man, shall we find atrocities so shocking as those commit- 
ted under English authority in the unfortunate island of 
Jamaica ? The negroes were hunted as if they were wild 
swine. Men, women and children were whipped or shot 
down at the option of the soldier or his commanding 
officer. Houses were burned everywhere, and desolation 
fell like a funeral pall wherever the English standard was 
unfurled. In the words of one historian, " the history of 
events in Jamaica, told in whatever way, must form a sad 
and shocking narrative. The history of this generation 
has no such tale to tell, where any race of civilized and 
Christian men was concerned." 

We have taken our illustrations thus far from the En- 
glish people, not assuming or believing that they are any 



20 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

worse than other enlightened people, but we give them as 
a fair -sample of what any race of men would do with a. 
helpless, benighted and ignorant people writhing under 
their feet. Such acts of barbarity and brutality can be 
found in the history of every race, and in every age, from 
the days of Cain down to the present time. 

Let us come still nearer home. Let us see what America, 
the land of churches and free schools, can properly boast 
of. She has, it is true, not carried the sin of conquest 
quite as far as the mother country, but there is time enough 
left. Yet, on a limited scale, her petty barbarities and re- 
fined rascalities will compare favorably with those of the 
most enlightened Christian countries in Europe. For 
many years she connived at the slave trade ; and for many 
years longer she held in most shameful bondage a feeble 
and oppressed raee. It is true she abolished slavery some 
time since, but not as a mark of repentance on her part, 
or an evidence of remorse for the sins already committed. 
The abolishing of slavery was not a deliberate act. It. 
was merely an incident of the late war. 

The treatment of the American Indians by the Ameri- 
can people for at least a full hundred years, has rarely had, 
in the whole history of the world, its parallel for savage- 
ness and outrage. They have pursued these unfortunate 
aborigines with all the ferocity of tigers, and in doing so 
they seem to have been animated by but one single pur- 
pose, and that is the extermination of the Indian race. 
These barbarities, long continued and inhuman as they 
were, have not been the exceptional work of a few men. 
They have been the work of a nation. The government 
has legalized all sorts of atrocities and justified and en- 
dorsed all sorts of crimes. It has put the seal of approval 
on certain acts of its agents, which if done by individuals 
on their own responsibility, would have sent them either 
to the penitentiary or the gibbet. From the time of the 
first formation of our government until the present time, 
the Indian has been hunted as legitimate game. It was 
only necessary to show that the victim w T as a wild Indian 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 21 

to justify shooting him on sight. The Indians driven to 
despair and desperation as they were, really were bad 
enough themselves. But their white persecutors have 
always proved more than a match for them in wickedness 
and crime. Sitting Bull, Capt. Jack or King Philip never 
conceived anything half so savage and atrocious as the 
Chivington Massacre, which was conducted by enlightened 
Christian white men. Treaties, solemn and sacred as 
treaties ever were, have been made with the Ked Men, but 
made only to be broken at will. Step by step they have 
been forced back till they stand to-day upon the very 
shores of the Pacific. They have gone from one reserva- 
tion to another, only to be driven, after a brief pause, still 
nearer to destruction. Disease has been spread amongst 
them merely to gratify lust, and poisoned whiskey dealt 
out to them from no other motive than the profits which 
the traffic would afford. The Indians have been both 
starved and robbed. What is an Indian agent but a 
licensed bandit? The government officials know what 
he is, and share in the spoils. The government connives 
at these outrages, and justifies them on the ground that 
the sufferer is nothing but an Indian. 

It will not answer to argue that intelligence makes men 
better. Neither does religion seem to elevate, to any ap- 
preciable extent, the standard of a man's morality. It is 
well known that the American people have more intelli- 
gence and religion than usually falls to the lot of man, and 
yet their sense of justice, propriety, fairness and decency 
is hardly up to the average. Their history shows baser 
conduct as a people than ever disgraced either the Turk 
or the Hottentot, They are humane, it is true, but hu- 
mane only by spells. 

Such is man the world over. All he wants is an op- 
portunity. Give a man the power, and he is always a 
tyrant, and generally a savage. It is restraint alone that 
makes the deportment of men both civil and proper. If 
the history of men in the treatment of their families could 
be laid open to the public, what chapters of cruelties and 



22 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

injustice it would be found to contain! How blind and 
unobserving is benevolence and pliilanthrophy ! We 
wee}) bitter tears of anguish for the enslaved black man, 
but the cries of oppressed women and children, who 
stops to notice ? And the sorrows and sufferings of the 
Ked Men of the west, who stops to give them attention ? 
We are liberal with our sympathies, but are rather partic- 
ular upon whom they are bestowed. 

The tiger and' hyena are both harmless enough when 
hampered and confined in a cage, but once again at 
liberty, in the limitless area of their own forest, the old 
nature of the tiger and hyena is sure to reappear. So it is 
with man even in his best estate. When restrained by 
laws and awed by the club of the policeman, by the bay- 
onet of the soldier, or perhaps the dread of public opinion, 
he is as meek and manageable as need be ; but give him 
liberty and power, give him the opportunity, and the 
original savage and brute is certain again to reappear and 
replace the enlightened man. History illustrates and 
proves this fact in every age of the world and in every 
land on the globe. Under the ordinary rules of 
civilization, savageness and brutalhy are kept suppressed, 
but these features sometimes make their appearance even 
under very unfavorable conditions. 

If we were to look for individual illustrations, we might 
refer to Cat-aline, the Roman, as described by Cicero, 
who made away with his own wife, that he might marry 
Aurelia, a woman as wicked as she was beautiful ; and his 
own child he killed, because Aurelia objected to a step- 
son. But this, Cicero adds, was common enough in those 
days. "Boys of ten years old had learned the art of 
poisoning their fathers, and adultery and incest had be- 
come familiar excitements." No brutes, or savages, even 
in their ignorance and stupidity, ever did worse or more 
than this. Yet this was in Rome, enlightened, powerful 
and brilliant Rome ! 

The character of the Romans may be best understood 
by considering their pastimes and the things that gave 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 23 

them pleasure. Nothing delighted the aristocratic and 
enlightened Eoman so much as slaughter. Blood, blood 
and suffering, always afforded a feast to him. The lead- 
ing structure, wherever the Komans held rule, was the 
amphitheatre. Here wild beasts were placed, to fight and 
destroy* each other. Here captives were thrown to be 
devoured by lions and tigers, to delight the Eoman eye. 
The Komans had about the same spirit and tendency as 
that indicated by the French novelist in speaking of the 
English. Their leading thought was : " Let us go out and 
kill something." 

Let us turn from Rome in 70 B. C, to France in the 
eighteenth century. The picture given is that of Napo- 
leon, and the painter is Herbert Spencer. " He got an- 
tagonists into his power by promises of clemency, and then 
executed them. To strike terror, he descended to barbar- 
ities like those of the blood-thirsty conquerors of old, of 
whom his career reminds us, as in Egypt, when, to avenge 
fifty of his soldiers, he beheaded two thousand fellah, and 
threw their corpses into the Nile ; or as at Jaffa, when 
2,500 of the garrison, who finally surrendered, were at 
his order deliberately massacred. Indeed, the instincts of 
the savage were scarcely at all qualified in him by what 
we call moral sentiments, as we see in his proposal to burn 
• two or three of the larger Communes ' in La Yendee. 
Contemplate now the greater crimes and then motives; 
Year after year he went on sacrificing, by tens of thous- 
ands and hundreds of thousands, the French people and 
the people of Europe at large, to gratify his lust of power 
and his hatred of opponents. In the Russian campaign 
alone, out of 552,000 men in Napoleon's army, but few 
ever returned home, while the Russian force of 200,000 
was reduced to less than 40,000." This was Napoleon, 
whom the world to-day admires and calls the greatest of 
men ! In the name of mercy and reason, if such a man 
stands at the head, what shall we think of the rest of 
mankind ? 

Some people place no value at all on another man's life. 



24 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

They kill without thinking, and are totally devoid of feel- 
ing and sympathy. During the war of 1796 a sailor went 
to Mr. McLaren, a watchmaker, and presenting a small 
French watch to him, demanded to know what the repair 
of it would come to. The watchmaker, after examining 
it, said : "It will be more expensive repairing it than its 
original cost." "I don't mind that," said the tar coolhy, 
" I will even give you double the original cost, for I have 
a veneration for the watch." "What might you have 
given for it ?" asked Mr. McLaren. " Why," rejDlied the 
sailor, " I gave a fellow a blow on the head, and if you 
will repair it I will give you two" 

We might stop here to notice the enormities of which 
Scotch missionaries, and doubtless many other mission- 
aries, were guilty in their management of the poor blacks 
in Africa, whipping them, and even murdering them, for 
the smallest offences, sometimes real and sometimes im- 
aginary, but let us rather dwell upon some of the brutal 
practices that prevail in Prussia. The following is taken 
from the London Times, and the writer is a well-known 
scholar of Cambridge : 

" To-day I have seen vivisection ; but' it was voluntary 
vivisection — I mean some 'German students fighting duels 
and making butcher's meat of each other's faces. We 
went into a beer garden, in which was a shed used for 
music. Groups of students and other men and boys were 
seated about under the trees at tables; the students of 
the fighting corps, known by their little colored caps, 
were in the house or sauntering about, for there had been 
one duel and their faces were being sowed up. Presently 
a crowd walked out of the house, and every one ran to 
the shed and looked in. The combatants were not corps 
students, and therefore not much practiced hands. They 
came forward, bandaged up, with great ugly shields over 
their bodies, spectacles over their eyes, and the right arm 
twice the natural size by reason of the wrappings. They 
looked extremely uncomfortable, pale and trembling. The 
students hold up their right arm before starting, for thev 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 25 

may never lower them below the shoulder. Everything is 
now ready. A couple of seconds stand behind and hold 
their swords. " On guard I" " Let loose I" They begin 
to slash. They fight very badly, slashing at one another 
as hard as they can ; the swords are old hacked, soft iron 
things. After some four strokes, " Halt I" is cried. Blood 
is drawn ; then they go at it again, after every four or five 
hits, fresh blood being drawn and the swords being 
straightened afresh. So they go on, and the spectacle gets 
more and more horrible. The blood at 'first comes trick- 
ling down the face on to the collar, a great hairy thing 
which soon becomes sopping ; then it falls on to the shirt, 
the breast of which becomes also sopping. On and on 
they go, getting very nervously excited, so that one man 
can scarcely gulp in the water which they give him where- 
with to wash, his mouth. There are a hundred or more 
spectators, among whom are two or three women and a 
little girl and boy. A lot of corps students stand around 
with ugly, seamed faces. One tall, small-headed fellow 
with face covered with scars, keeps the time. At last it 
is decided that they have fought enough, and they go out; 
but there are five more to follow, so we stop for another 
bout. This time they are two corps students, practiced 
fighters — one with a red, the other with a green cap. They 
have never known one another, but they soon get worked 
up into frenzy. This duel is even more horrible than the 
last. One of the combatants is a big vulgar-looking 
fellow, his face already nastily scarred. The other, a little 
lame man with a half -sized mustache. These slash away 
some dozen times before they hit. It is announced that 
the duel is to last thirty minutes, unless a bad hit is made. 
Again a few small cuts come first, and then more, 
and more. The big man has his lip cut again and 
again, and his forehead and cheek; the little man is 
even worse. Soon after each round, the doctor has to sop 
up their faces with a sponge. The blood pours down ; 
some students standing by, drink beer and eat bread and 
sausage. They get so tired, that after each round they 



26 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

lean down or sink into chairs, their right arms being still 
held out They slash so fearfully hard that their swords- 
strike lire and get bent into semicircles. It is so hideous 
that I cannot look, but turn away, squeeze tight my eyes, 
and only hear the continual cries, " On guard !" " Make 
ready !"' " Off I" And then the clashing of swords, until a 
dull thump is heard and the men cry " Halt !" This goes on 
for more than half an hour. I can only see the face of 
the big man ; its ugliness surpasses anything I have ever 
seen ; his big lips open, the lower one purple, very bloated 
and hanging ; the nose swollen and bloated ; the face a 
dull red color, save where it was streaked with the dark 
red blood. His eyes were goggly, staring and bloodshot, 
and his hair had been brought over the forehead to stick 
together the gashes. With such a face, he stood limp 
against a chair, with drooping shoulders, slouching figure, 
and blood dropping all about him from his matted hair 
to the blood dripping nose, the streaming mouth and the 
red shirt. At last the little man gave the other what they 
call a deep cut on the forehead and the end is announced ; 
the small fellow was beaten, for he was too weak to go on. 
I now, for the first time, saw his face; I never saw any- 
thing so dreadful. Supported by some students he hob- 
bled off, more than half his face literally one sheet of 
blood : the mustache crimson, the black hair rinsed, the 
collar and breastplate covered with wet and half -congealed 
blood, and, underneath, the remains of "former contests. 
As he walked off, I felt such disgust as I never remember 
feeling before. There were two more to come, but I could 
stand it no longer, and came away. But I am glad to 
have seen this dueling. No doubt it requires a consider- 
able amount of pluck ; but anything so utterly and un- 
speakably hideous, I have never seen before. And this 
is manly and chivalrous, they say ! The unpleasant ac- 
companiments of chivalry intensified, and without a spark 
of its beauty." 

Our next illustration is from the peasantry of Brittany, 
in the north-west of France, a peculiar people with strange 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 27 

customs, hut after all pretty well civilized. The account 
is taken from the Cornhill Magazine: — 

•• There must be a strain of tiger in a population which 
could amuse itself as lately as 1847 in cutting the life out of 
friends with a whip made after this fashion : Lash eighteen 
feet long, swelling a little distance from the handle to the 
thickness of a man's arm, from whence it tapered to a 
twisted and strongly-knotted end, made more like a knife 
by the help of a mixture of glue. This plaything was 
fixed upon a strong stiff stick, and often not only cut a 
man into steaks, but sometimes cut out the life of him at 
a single stroke. Yet a local historian gives an account of 
a fete which he attended in 1847, at which the chief at- 
traction was a contest between twelve men, six on a side, 
with these deadly weapons. The smack of these whips 
made, he says, much more noise than a gun-shot ; they 
could be heard at the distance of two and a half miles, 
and when several smack their whips in concert, the noise 
is so terrible that one must either run aAvay or stop up 
one's ears. These twelve men were ranged opposite to 
one another at a distance almost corresponding to the 
length of the lashes of their whips. They stood up hav- 
ing for protection in the shape of dress, only short felt 
breeches, and shirts made of stout sail-cloth. Like all 
Breton peasants of the old style, their hair hung down 
their backs in long tresses, but was cut square across the 
forehead, after the fashion of Gainsborough's "Blue Boy."" 
They wore no hats or head covering. The left arm was 
naked, but the right arm which held the whip was pro- 
tected from the fist to the neck by an armlet or shield of 
thick leather. The sides were distinguished by the color 
of the tufts of their whips ; the one being white, the other- 
red. These men, thus standing face to face, w T ere there to 
be wounded almost to death for the glory thereof, and 
also for the prize, which consisted of half a dozen striped 
pocket handkerchiefs and a pound of tobacco. The signal 
given by an old peasant, the combatants put themselves 
into an attitude of defence, the whip raised, while the 



23 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

lash was held in the left hand. "Strike!" said the same 
voice, and the twelve cables were let loose in an instant, 
but no smack was heard as they met, twisted and struggled 
in mid-air. Those most renowned quickly disengaged 
their lashes, and dealt the second and dreadful blow upon 
the persons of their antagonists, opening up long seams of 
livid or bleeding flesh ; on the third stroke, all the faces 
except two were seamed and flowing with blood. Those 
two were the leaders — one tall, the other short ; one heavy, 
the other light ; one all flesh, the other, although only five 
feet high, all nerves and sinews. An outsider would have 
backed the giant, but the boys of Pipriac knew too well 
the prowess of the dwarf to risk their money against him. 
The contest now raged with fury ; men disdained to parry, 
they were only eager to strike. The sound was that of a 
volley of musketry. The lashes soften into tow, but 
harden again and glue themselves together with blood. 
The faces are no longer human ; the long hair hangs down 
in front, bathed in perspiration and blood. Bat not one 
blow has fallen on either champion. They have reserved 
themselves ; they have guarded and parried, knowing that 
upon them the issue of the fight did depend. But now 
the tall man has hit home. A long, blue, spiral mark, 
which here and there squirts blood, twists round the left 
arm of the little Joseph, and makes him stagger with pain. 
He recovers himself ; .launches his whip at his foe, and but 
six inches intervened between its deadly point and the 
face of Joseph the great. Animated by his first success, 
Kaer stepped forward and bent his whole strength to the 
blow which he aimed at Josille. The little man never 
parried the blow, but pirouetted as it were ; while, without 
any effort, he threw out his lash softly. The blow of Kaer 
missed ; but when Josille sharply drew back his lash, the 
whole face of Kaer was cut in half — a gigantic gap opened 
up the very bones. These two stood alone in the lists ; 
the rest had made a truce, and were engaged in attending 
to their grievous wounds. Kaer, blinded by the shock, 
put his armlet of leather before his face and paused. Jo- 



THE STUDY OF MAN 29 

sille, so far from profiting by the occasion and pressing 
his advantage, coolly took out his pocket-handkerchief and 
loudly blew his nose, to the great amusement of his 
backers, who thought it an excellent joke. The laughter 
made Kaer mad, threw him out of his sang froid, and made 
him wild. He struck, stamped, and made wonderful 
points ; but Josille was calm ; and at the end of ten min- 
utes the giant, covered wfth wounds, his shirt cut into 
ribbons, his mouth foaming, his eyes blinded, fell heavily 
upon his knees. " Don't give in," cried some voices still ; 
but the effort to rise was vain. Josille, apparently incap- 
able of pity, like a true Breton peasant, again blew his 
nose and prepared to give the falling man his coup de grace. 
A shiver ran through the crowd ; but Josille was better 
than he seemed, for, instead of cutting the poor flesh, he 
dexterously drew the whip out of the hands of the victim, 
;and folded his arms upon his breast. Kaer shut his eyes, 
and laid his burning head upon the sand. The whites 
were proclaimed the victors. Each subaltern had a pocket 
handkerchief worth six pence, and Josille the pound of 
tobacco. I know not whether any of these scenes are en- 
acted now, but this account is so recent that it throws light 
on the Breton peasant as I find him." 

As strong, and at the same time as true a picture, as we 
ever saw, illustrative of the brutality of man, is to be found 
in Johnson's "Idler." The conversation there given is 
between two vultures, a young one and its mother, who 
is giving it instruction in the ways of life. " Two herds 
<of men," said the mother, " will often meet and shake the 
'earth with noise, and fill the earth with fire. When you 
hear noise and see fire, with flashes along the ground, 
"hasten to the place with your swiftest wing, for men are 
surely destroying one another; you will then find the 
ground smoking with blood and covered with carcasses, of 
which many are dismembered and mangled for the con- 
venience of the vulture." "But when men have killed 
their prey," said the young pupil, "why do they not eat 
it ? When the wolf has killed a sheep, he suffers not the 



30 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

vulture to touch it till he has satisfied himself. Is not 
man another kind of wolf ?" " Man," said the mother, " is 
the only beast that kills that which he does not devour, and 
this quality makes him so much a benefactor to our 
species." The ordinary brute commits its depredations 
usually in pursuit of food, either for itself or its young. 
It rarely makes war upon its own species, and not often 
upon others, unless it be for the purpose of self-defence, 
or to procure a meal. But man outdoes the fiercest of 
brutes. He goes about with a gun or a knife in his hand, 
killing what comes in his way, either out of pure wanton- 
ness, or to satisfy the devil that dwells in his heart. He 
seizes and crushes every fly, treads ruthlessly upon every 
crawling worm, plants his heel savagely upon every harm- 
less serpent, catches and kills every mouse, or bird, or frog 
that comes within his reach. He is the demon of destruc- 
tion ; he is a devil incarnate. What other brute tortures • 
before it kills its victim ? 

Some years since, Mrs. Manning and her husband were 
hung in London for some crime they had committed, and 
this is what Dickens says of their execution : "A sight so 
inconceivably awful as the wickedness and levity of the 
immense crowd could be imagined by no man and pre- 
sented by no heathen land under the sum There was no 
more emotion, no more pity, no more thought that two im- 
mortal souls had gone to judgment, no more restraint in 
any of the previous obscenities, than if the name of Christ 
had never been heard in this world, and there were no be- 
belief among men but that they perish like the beasts." 

We need not go back very far in the history of civiliza- 
tion and intellectual development to find a period, and a 
very short period it was too, during which a Russian czar, 
two American presidents, a Peruvian president, a Spanish 
dictator, and two British officers were slain in the foulest 
manner by assassins. What is most important of all, is^ 
that these things were done not by men on their own ac- 
count, but by public opinion back of the men. Was there 
ever a darker age when worse things were done ? It must 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 31 

be remembered that the assassination of public men, and 
the numerous attempts at their assassination, are all the 
work of reason and intelligence, and not of ignorance or 
.sudden impulse. 



PERSISTENCE. 



To be successful in any enterprise, a man must have a 
strong will; he must have courage, great tenacity, and 
great perseverance. He that does not make up his mind 
beforehand that at best he will have many obstacles to 
overcome, that the mysterious workings of Providence 
will often render vain the best laid plans ; he that does not 
make up his mind that he will have days of darkness and 
doubt, as well as bright and encouraging ones, and that, 
Desides. he can always find arguments to induce him to 
abandon his work and turn back in dismay ; he that does 
not anticipate that many will discourage him, many insist 
upon improvements in the plan, or in the execution, and 
that many will fail to perform what he might reasonably' 
expect of them : he that does not take all these things into 
a ;• :• :>unt. certainly has not had that experience in under- 
takings which time will be sure to give him. TVhat men 
have who succeed, and what men have not who fail, is 
persistence and endurance. Little can be accomplished 
without them. The history of every great man, and the 
•success of every great enterprise, is a lesson to prove the 
truth of these propositions. You have only to recall 
Grant in his terrible siege around Vicksburg. or in his 
long and bloody road to Richmond, if you wish to see 
what delays and reverses a great man can endure, and 
besides what labor, patience and perseverance can accom- 
plish, when guided and directed by prudence and genius. 
'The history of the Atlantic cable must be fresh in the 
minds of every one. Its projectors had that kind of faith 
of which Christ tells us. and they triumphed; in the face 
of the ridicule of the world, of the learned quite as well 



32 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

as the ignorant, who were able to see that such an enter- 
prise was equally absurd and impracticable, they triumphed; 
but not until the experiment had been tried five times, 
three times fully and twice partially, and with the ex- 
penditure of several millions of dollars. Once they had 
laid the cable across the whole ocean, but after a few 
hours it refused to do its work ; once again the attempt 
was made, but when far out on the stormy deep, the wires 
proved defective, the cable parted, and the projectors were 
compelled to abandon the work, sad as they were, if not 
disheartened. Again it was tried, and this time the work 
was crowned with complete success, and the Atlantic cable 
is to-day a proud and enduring monument of the final 
triumph of science, energy, patience and perseverance, 
over obstacles almost universally believed to be quite 
insurmountable. When Napoleon desired to pass the 
Alps, he sent an officer to examine all the passes of that 
mighty wall, in order to determine whether it was possible 
to take an army across that barrier. On the return of the 
officer, his answer was: "It is barely possible." "Then 
w T e will start to-morrow," was Napoleon's prompt rejoinder.. 

He that is turned away by straws will seldom succeed 
in finding anything more than straws to reward his efforts- 
Strong and brave men who fail once try again, try some 
other way, adopt some other plan and 'support themselves 
with other means. Such efforts as these make men rich,, 
make men great, make orators and statesmen, celebrated 
authors and renowned commanders. The biography of 
every good and great man is a lesson for those to read who 
have high aspirations and fond hopes of renown. 

"The more I am beaten down, the more I am lift up," 
was the remark of Prynne while undergoing the torture 
measured out to him by his enemies. This is the spirit 
of a man that cannot be conquered, and that so long as he 
feels that he is right, refuses to yield. Such men usually 
triumph, as the unfortunate Prynne finally triumphed 
over his enemies. We find a different illustration of the 
power of persistence in the case of Mr. Busby, the barris- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 33 

ter. As the coach was about starting, the modest gentle- 
man, then a young man, approached the landlady, a very 
handsome Quakeress, who was seated by the fire, and said 
he could not think of leaving without giving the sweet 
lady a kiss. " Friend," said she, " thee must not do 
it." " Oh, by heavens, I will !" replied the persistent bar- 
rister. •' Well, friend, as thou hast sworn, thee may do it, 
but thee must not make a practice of it." Perhaps i:o 
general suffered more defeats than William, Prince of 
Orange, but he triumphed in the end, for he was one cf 
those who could turn defeat into victory. When the Duke 
of Buckingham, who had come to him to negotiate at 
the Hague, asked him if he did not see that his country 
was lost, William's answer was : " There is a sure way 
never to see it lost, and that is to die in the last ditch." 
The best thing that can be reasonably said of Charles the 
Second is, that he was strongest when defeated. 

Energy is one thing, industry is another ; but persistence 
is different from either. The men who succeed are not 
those who are strong simply, even if they exercise their 
strength. Neither are they those who labor hard, but, 
perhaps, not to good purpose. Success belongs chiefly to 
those who persist in what they undertake, and who, if 
they fail to-day, try again to-morrow, and so continue 
until success crowns the efforts they have made. It is 
persistence that gives history its great names, and supplies 
it with the miraculous deeds of all ages. 



EXPERIENCE. 

It is said that experience is a dear school, and that fools 
will learn in no other. But the fact is, the lessons taught 
by experience must be learned by wise men quite as well 
as fools. As no man can learn to do business by mere 
study, so a man can never fully understand amy of the 
realities of life, until he has tested them in his experience. 
Theory is one thing, and practice something entirely differ- 



34 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

ent. What we conceive life to be, and what, on trial, we 
find it to be, are almost always two separate and distinct 
matters. We can never know the value of the things 
we have, until we have by actual trial compared them 
with things we do not have. If, for example, we have 
lived in the east, we shall never know how good or poor 
a location the east is, until we have actually tried the 
south or west. A man can never full}' understand what 
pinching poverty is, unless at some time in his life he has 
really been poor himself. We can never fully sympathize 
with others in their misfortunes, unless at some former 
period we have found ourselves suffering from similar 
afflictions. If we have never lost near relatives, we can- 
not properly appreciate the sorrows of those who have re- 
cently buried their beloved dead. 

It is one matter to see a thing done, and quite another 
matter to 2:0 and do it ourselves. 



REVERENCE. 



The steady decline in the matter of reverence, as seen 
in the progress and development of the American people, 
is really one of the most alarming symptoms. It begins 
in the cradle, and ends only with the grave. All through 
the different stages of American life is witnessed a 
growing disregard for age and authority, and a steadily 
increasing tendency to rely upon the omnipotence of man, 
instead of the omnipotence of God. The conceit of the 
present day is absolutely amazing ; it obstructs all progress 
and destroys all subordination. Carried to its ultimate 
and inevitable limit, it ends in anarchy, social demorali- 
zation and political ruin. " The Romans ceased to believe," 
says Froude, in his "Life of Julius Caesar," and "in losing 
their faith, they became as steel becomes when it is demag- 
netized, the spiritual quality was gone out of them, and the 
high society of Rome itself became a society of powerful 
animals with an enormous appetite for pleasure." Caesar 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 35 

himself defied the auguries, and it is not strange at all that 
he met the tragic and untimely death which is recorded in 
history. Men. no matter how great, who depend upon 
themselves, are certain either to fall eventually, or to die 
early. It was Xapoleon's fate ; it was Alexander's as well ; 
It has been the fate of every man who finally came to 
forget God and depend entirely upon his own counsel and 
ability. The French abandoned God and worshiped 
reason, which is only another name for man, and it is well 
known how soon the structure reared upon that basis went 
tumbling to the aTound. This was true of France at an 
-earlier date, but it was equally true of France for a consid- 
erable period just preceding the disastrous war of 1870. 

Col. Stoffel, the French representative at Berlin, as late 
<as August, 1869. said : " TTho that has lived here [Berlin] 
will deny that the Prussians are energetic, patriotic, and 
teemjng with youthful vigor ; that they are not corrupted 
by sensual pleasures, but are manly, have earnest convic- 
tions, do not think it beneath them to reverence sincerely 
what is noble and lofty." TThat a melancholy contrast 
does France offer to all this ! Having sneered at every- 
thing, she has lost the faculty of respecting anything. 
Virtue, family life, patriotism, honor, religion, are repre- 
sented to a frivolous generation as fitting subjects of ridi- 
cule. The theaters have become schools of shamelessness 
and obscenity. Drop by drop, poison is distilled into the 
very core of an ignorant and enervated society, which has 
neither the insis'ht nor the enerev left to amend its insti- 
tutions. nor — which would be the most necessary step to 
take — become better informed or more moral. One after 
the other the fine qualities of the nation are dying out. 
But it took a Sedan to arouse France, as it took a Jena 
to arouse Prussia many years before that. America can- 
not examine this picture two carefully. In its lessons she 
is greatly interested. 

There is a certain regard for age, a certain submission 
to authority, a certain confession of our inferiority and 
iinworthiness that, we think, it would be well to cultivate 



36 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

and encourage at all times. People, all people, of what- 
ever age or sex, should be taught to appreciate the fact 
that there is a Ruler whose will is supreme, and that even 
among men. there are those who of right are over and 
above as. Authority is the sheet anchor which holds, 
steadies, and even saves, the world. Without authority 
duly reverenced and enforced, society would soon settle 
into chaos. 



DECEPTION. 

It has been stated by somebody that " all men are liars,"" 
but that expression is two sweeping and indefinite. The 

language would seem to indicate that all men lie habit- 
ually, when the fact is that all men do not lie habitually, 
but only occasionally, and as circumstances may require. 
It is well, however, to bear in mind that there is no- 
weapon in the world so frequently used as lying. It is 
used both offensively and defensively ; it is used by 
the robber to secure his gains, and b} T the weak and un- 
fortunate to ensure escape. Some men lie more frequently" 
and unnecessarilv than others, but every man living will 
lie when the motive to cause it is greater than the scruples 
to prevent it. 

But lying is a detestable vice, and every man avIio 
resorts to it must be one of two things, either a coward or 
a rascal. Sometimes he is both. \Ye would not say a 
lie is never justifiable, for we are aware there are persons 
occasionally who are not entitled to have the truth, but 
what we do say is. that the one who makes use of a lie, 
no matter for what purpose it be, avails himself of the 
most discreditable weapon ever placed in the hands of 
man. We may sometimes be compelled to do wrong. 
but even that does not make it right. 

It must be borne in mind that one lie seldom, if ever, 
answers the purpose. One lie. like one drink, uniformly 
leads to another, and he that finds it necessarv to make 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 87 

one false statement, usually rinds it equally necessary to 
make a dozen more to get out of his dilemma. The man 
who violates one law, never is content till he has violated 
several more. The safest rule is to lie not at all, for when 
the ice is once broken, it requires an expert performer to 
keep from tumbling in. 

It is well always to keep in mind this proverb : " The 
simple believeth every word, but the prudent man looketh 
well to his going." Lying is extremely prevalent. In- 
deed, somebody has asked with some reason, "Are we a 
nation of liars?'' Some of the statistics in the annual 
report of the Commissioner of Pensions, furnished to 
the Secretary of the Interior, are well worth our atten- 
tion. In the cases of 500 pensioners whose names have 
been- expunged from the list during three years, on 
account of the detection of fraud in their cases, Com- 
missioner Bentley certifies that perjury was ascertained 
in 3,084 of the 4,397 affidavits which accompanied their 
applications and forgery in at least 92 instances. These 
fraudulent claimants succeeded in drawing $547,225 from 
the national Treasury before they were dropped. This 
is only one chapter from one book ; there a^e many other 
chapters that might be taken from many other books. 



SELF-SUFFICIEXCY. 

"Wants a situation, a practical printer, who is compe- 
tent to take charge of any department in a printing and 
publishing house. Would accept a professorship in any 
of the academies. Has no objection to teach ornamental 
painting and penmanship, geometry, trigonometry, and 
many other sciences. Is particularly suited to act as a 
pastor in a small evangelical church, as a local preacher. 
He would have no objection to form a small but select 
class of interesting young ladies to instruct in the highest 
branches. To a dentist or a chiropodist, he would be in- 
valuable, as he can do almost anything. Would, cheer- 



38 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

fully accept a position as a bass or tenor singer in a choir. 
Would board with a family, if decidedly pious. For fur- 
ther particulars, inquire at Brown's saloon." 

This advertisement, by no means an uncommon one, is 
a fair illustration of American self-sufficiency and con- 
ceit. It is hard to find a man who can do one tiling, and 
do it well, but we can find a man any day who can do a 
hundred, or at least fifty things, after his way. Our 
young people do not lack industry so much as they do 
patience. They consider it takes too long, and that it is 
time lost, to learn to do a thing thoroughly and well. 
The consequence is, they work a wdiile at one thing, and 
a while at another, and graduate as " Jack of all trades, 
and master of none." This is an ol<} and homely expres- 
sion, but it is forcible after all. And so the world "goes, 
looking and searching and begging for men who under- 
stand their business. But they look in vain, they gener- 
allv do, for they are hard to be found. Conceit and 
self-sufficiency take the place of industry and skill ; cul- 
ture and gentility, the place of experience and proficiency. 



CANDOR 



Candor, which is only another name for honesty, is 
something which all men prize, and no one is willing to 
dispense with in dealing with others. Candor ennobles a 
man, and is something that is certain to elevate him in the 
opinion of those with whom he associates. Candor brings 
very often the greatest advantages, and never brings sor- 
row or dissatisfaction upon its possessor. John Stuart 
Mill, the famous British author, at one time, curiously 
enough, took it kito his head to stand as a candidate for 
the House of Commons. He appealed to the masses for 
their suffrages, and, like other candidates, discussed pub- 
licly the leading issues of the canvass. As he was an 
author, it had been his misfortune to have written and 
said much. At one of the customary public meetings, 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 39 

where the speaker is often interrupted, Mr. Mill was 
bluntly asked it he had not said that the working classes 
(whose votes he now needed) were given to lying. Most 
men. especially most candidates, would have evaded the 
question, or denied the charge. Bnt John Stuart Mill 
was no such man, and he boldly and unhesitatingly said, 
"I did." "The boldness and quietness of the reply," 
says the historian, " struck home to the manhood of the 
workingmen who were listeners. Here they saw before 
them a leader who did not shrink from telling the truth 
under any circumstances." It is needless to add, John 
Stuart Mill was triumphantly elected. We do not know 
that it is always best for a man to confess to the public 
his crimes, but we are certain that in all such cases as 
this, a candid admission of the blunder, if it be a blunder, 
or of the fact, if it be a fact, is much the best thing. 
People can afford to be wrong occasionally, but no man 
can afford to tell a falsehood. We have in our mind also 
the case of Howard, the philanthropist. He was asked 
by the Emperor of Austria what he thought of the poor- 
houses and prisons in that country. Howard answered 
like a man, and told him of the bad condition of affairs 
in these institutions, and he showed him the bad system 
that prevailed in their management. And yet this same 
Emperor said to the English ambassador, next day, ,k I 
like your countryman. He is a man without ceremony 
or compliment, but I like him all the better for that. His 
suggestions are good, and, so far as I can, I will follow 
them." 

Candor is something that is precious in the sight of all 
men. Even the wickedest men of the race prize candor 
above all things — in others. Without candor, society 
could not continue to exist If a man has done wrong, 
unless his conduct has been too base, the best thing he 
can do is to admit it. and try to do better in future. 



40 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

A CLEAR CONSCIENCE. 

Nothing can be equal in value to a clear conscience. 
But no one can hope to possess it, whose conduct is not 
upright and virtuous. ' k No- man was ever wicked/' says 
Dr. Johnson, " without secret discontent ; and according 
to the different degrees of remaining virtue, or unextin- 
guished reason, he either endeavors to reform himself or 
corrupt others ; either to regain the station he has quitted, 
or prevail on others to imitate his defection." It can be 
safely predicated that there is no rest nor peace for the 
wicked ; contentment and enjoyment can in no sense be 
theirs. Every man who is guilty of wrong, fears detec- 
tion, "dreads every eye, and fears every tongue."' No 
amount of unrighteous gain can ever compensate for the 
misery it will cost to the soul. 

When Plato was assured that he had man}- enemies 
who spoke ill of him, he took it up with no apparent con- 
cern : "I will so live," said he, " that nobody will believe 
them." And Epictetus says : " If any one speak ill of thee, 
consider whether he has truth on his side ; and if so, 
reform thyself, that his censure may not affect thee." 
The answer of Diogenes with regard to one who slandered 
him was this : " Nobody will believe him when he speaks 
ill of me, any more than he would believe me if I spoke 
well of him." 



ECONOMY. 



There is nothing we prize so highly as we do economy, 
but after all, there is no virtue more shamefully abused 
than this. Economy too often is used to defeat its own 
object. It is well illustrated in the case of the man who 
accustomed his horse to subsist on shavings, but by the 
time he got him accustomed to the diet, the animal died. 
We want economy, but only when coupled with prudence. 
We often hear of people curtailing their expenses, but, we 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 41 

have seen them do this to such an extent that they have 
ruined their business. Economy consists, as we under- 
stand it, in passing by those things which we can get 
along without. We can prune our expenses as we 
would a tree, but if we lop off two many branches, we 
shall finally ruin the trunk. People sometimes practice 
their economy very ill. They save their pennies scrupu- 
lously, but their dollars they expend lavishly. They de- 
prive themselves of little conveniences which a few dimes 
would buy, but purchase readily some luxury that per- 
haps costs ten times as much. 

There is a vast difference between true economy and 
pure parsimony ; but as a general thing, people who think 
they are economical in these days, are merely parsimonious. 
We hear people say they must be economical, when all 
they mean by it is that they must pinch and squeeze, and 
dally and dicker, and thus lose a great deal of time and 
suffer a great deal of inconvenience, in order to save a very 
little money. We believe people should be prudent and 
sensible, but we have no v great fancy for their being eco- 
nomical, in the sense in which that term is generally under- 
stood. The proper question for an}' judicious and care- 
ful person is, not what he can possibly dispense with, but 
what he can afford to have; not what investment he can 
probably avoid, but what he really desires and ought to 
possess. If a man wants to be a monk, he ought to make 
the professions of a monk, and lead the life of a monk. 
For ordinary men, this world was made to be enjoyed. 
The things that are in it, we apprehend, are put here for 
man's use, to minister to his wants and to promote his 
happiness. The condition to be observed by all in this 
pursuit of happiness, is that what is done shall be rational, 
and shall not result finally in more pain than pleasure. 

We have an idea that economy, virtue though it be, 
has caused more sorrow and misfortune than was ever 
caused by profuse expenditures. They are both bad 
enough in their way, but economy is the worse of the two. 
When a man sets about leading an economical life, there 



42 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

is hardly any item of enjoyment that he does not believe 
he can dispense with. He becomes so very anxious to 
curtail expenses, that he destroys, little by little, the very 
life blood that sustains his business. He is very anxious- 
for the harvest, but he would forego the harvest entirely, 
rather than incur the necessary expense to make the har- 
vest certain. He is foolish enough to believe that he can 
take money in, without being under obligation to pay 
money out He is so taken up with his precious idea of 
saving, that he fails to bestow any thought upon produc- 
ing. 

What men want in this world is not econonry so much 
as good judgment. It makes no difference how much 
money is spent, if it is well sj)ent. No matter how much a 
man buys, if he buys what he ought to buy, and what he 
can afford to have. If a man can make one dollar and ten, 
or one dollar and twenty cents, by expending one dollar, 
he is generally a fool if he saves it. But Economy says : 
" Hold, there ! Dont't invest that dollar — don't go to any 
expense — save it ! Don't spend your money — let others- 
spend theirs. Who knows but that when the final day of 
dividend comes, you will get your share as well as the 
rest ?" That is what Economy says, and what she preaches 
every day — but we do not subscribe to the doctrine. This 
eternal saving that we hear so much about, is the curse of 
many men, and the ruin of many communities. Thank 
Heaven, misers are few. But then there is another class,, 
the strict economists, almost as bad as the misers, and they 
are alarmingly numerous. 

People make a great mistake about money. It is not 
made to keep, but to spend, and the more one uses it 
judiciously, the better it is for both him and his neigh- 
bors. We never could see the sense of making money 
simply to hide it under rafters, or to bury it under ash 
heaps. That is not economy, it is folly. Economy con- 
sists in not buying that which we can just as well dispense 
with. But there is the whole question : Can we dispense 
with it? Is it of no use to us? Does it cost more than 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 43 

it is worth ? Can we get something better for less money ? 
Can we dispose of it, should we desire to do so ? These 
are sensible and well-timed questions that every intelli- 
gent and prudent man ought to consider. But this is 
based on a very different theory from that which holds 
that money is to be kept in a man's pocket, or hid where 
nobody can find it, 

" There is that scattereth, and yet increaseth ; and there 
is that withholdeth more than is meet, but it leacleth to 
poverty," saith the Proverb. We have only to remark in 
conclusion, that when we come down to the truth of the 
matter, there are more things that people cannot afford 
do without, than that they cannot afford to have. 



EXTRAVAGANCE. 



Extravagance, as it develops itself in this country, has 
become a crime. Extravagance certainly leads to the 
gravest and blackest of crimes. It is something more than 
what, on the surface, it appears to be, an exceptional or 
an occasional folly ; it is a terrible -disease — deep-seated, 
ineradicable and uncontrollable. The main study of the 
American people, or at least the major part of well-to-do 
and prosperous American people, is to waste. Their lead- 
ing aim appears to be to tear down the fortune they have 
succeeded in building up, to scatter what they have either 
earned, stolen or inherited, and thus create, for the time be- 
ing, that in which they delight above all things, a sensation. 
History furnishes no fair parallel to such recklessness and 
folly. The Romans in their best, or rather in their most, 
corrupt days, went very far in this direction, but with all 
their efforts in the line of waste and show, they were very 
far behind the Americans of modern days. 

In matters of extravagance and lavish expenditure of 
money on trivial objects, New York city leads the world. 
There, extravagance is the one thing popular above other 
things. It gives tone, a certain kind of tone, to society ; 



44 PRACTICAL LIFE AX I) 

it fixes the place of a man or woman in the social circle. 
People rank in New York according to the ability they 
possess, and the inclination they manifest, to scatter and 
waste. "Lights and Shadows of New York Life " gives 
us an awful, an alarming expose of the customs and 
practices in the American metropolis. The author of this 
work informs us that " it is nothing uncommon to meet 
in New York society ladies who have on dry goods and 
jewelry to the value of from thirty to fifty thousand 
dollars." A few jears ago the dwelling of a wealthy 
citizen of that city was consumed by fire, and the owner 
soon after applied to an insurance company for the pay- 
ment of a policy which he held on his daughter's wearing 
apparel and other property in the sum of $21,000. This 
claim seemed extravagant (indeed it was extravagant), but 
he gave the facts and figures as to what had been lost, and 
got his money. One item that he mentioned in his mem- 
orandum was $400 for " one elegant, richly carved ivory 
work-table, brought from Mexico, inside fitted up with 
silk, standing three feet high." One white satin dress was 
put down at $2,500, and a royal blue satin at $1,500. 
" Only the All-Seeing ~Eye can tell," says the author of 
'Lights and Shadows,' "how many men who stand well 
in the mercantile community are tortured continually by 
the thought that their extravagance, or that of their 
families, is bringing them to sure and certain rain ; for not 
even in New York can a man live (safely) beyond his 
means. They have not the courage to live within their 
legitimate incomes. To do so would be to lose their posi- 
tion in society, and they go on straining every nerve to 
meet the demand upon them, and then the crash comes, 
and they are ruined. Those who dwell in the great city, 
and watch its ways with observant eyes, see many evils 
directly attributable to the sin of extravagance. These 
are not entirely of a pecuniary nature. There are others 
of a more terrible character. Keen observers see every 
day women whose husbands and fathers are in receipt of 
limited incomes, dressing as if their means were unlimited. 
All this magnificence is not purchased out of the lawful 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 45 

income of the husband or father. The excess is made up 
in other ways — often by the sacrifice of the woman's virtue. 
•She finds a man willing to pay liberally for her favors, 
and carries on an intrigue with him, keeping her confiding 
husband in ignorance of the facts all the while. She may 
have more than one lover — perhaps a dozen. When a 
woman sins from motives such as these, she does not stop 
to count the cost. Her sole object is to get money, and 
she gets it" 

But what is there to justify or excuse extravagance ? 
Whal motive that impels it would be considered' sensible 
or creditable by any intelligent, thoughtful person? 
Generally, with extravagant persons, there is an entire 
absence of rational motive, but so far as there is a motive 
that leads to it, it is chiefly the desire for show, or rather 
to out-show some one else whom they have in view. Be- 
cause some one has a dress costing $500, they must have 
one costing $800 or $1,000. Because some one has two 
servants, they must have three or four. Because some 
one has a house costing $10,000 or $20,000, they must have 
one costing perhaps $50,000. What can be more silly 
than all this ! And yet it is a principle at work in some 
form, at all times, in all those families that seek to make 
a sensation in the world. Another motive which we 
might mention in this connection as leading to extrava- 
gant and apparently wasteful expenditures, is to demon- 
strate to passers-by the large measure of their wealth. They 
invest in rare jewels, to prove that they can afford to have 
rare jewels ; they have a coach and four, to demonstrate 
their ability to have a coach and four ; they spend the 
summer in Europe, or at least at Saratoga or Long 
Branch, to prove to folks at home and abroad that they 
are " well fixed" in life, and can indulge in such luxuries 
with freedom and safety. Again, we say, how silly is all 
this ! How much easier and cheaper it would be, if they 
desire to have people know the extent of their riches, to 
publish the amount of their income in the papers. Or 
they might wear some badge, placed conspicuously some- 



46 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

where upon their person, which might indicate to the 
world, approximately at least, both their rank in society, 
and their condition in life. 



THE VANITY OF FAME. 

Is there anything more empty, more senseless, more 
unworthy of the study and efforts of man, than fame, as 
it is commonly understood and estimated ? Fame, as we 
generally find it, is but little more than mere notoriety ; 
and when it affords the strongest claims upon the notice 
of mankind, it is often uncertain whether the rewards are 
accorded to the right or the wrong person. "Fortune 
rules in all things," says Sallust, " and advances and de- 
presses things more out of her own will than right and 
justice." " Hidden virtue," says another, very truly, "is 
much the same as none at all." Of what use is it to be 
brave, or virtuous, or generous, if the world does not 
recognize it ; or if, as very often happens, the whole 
credit is given to the wrong individual? How many 
brave actions are buried in the crowd of battle! How 
many men are credited with other men's thoughts, and how 
many gain their promotion through other men's exploits I 

But suppose praise was always given to the right per- 
son for every good deed and every great action, is it 
really worth what it costs? In our opinion, it is not. 
In the words of Wolsey : — 

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye. 
I feel my heart new opened ; O how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have, 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to rise again. 

And again, in the case of Caesar, as said by Antony :— 

O mighty Caesar ! Dost thou He so low ? 

Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 

Shrunk to this little measure ? Fare thee well. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 47 

Warwick puts the same thought in another form : — 

My parks, ray walks, my manors that 

Even now forsake me ; and of all my lands 

Is nothing left me but my body's length ! 

Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ? 

When the illustrious Saladin was about to die, he 
ordered a winding-sheet to be^ hung at the gates of his 
palace, while a slave proclaimed with a loud voice : — 
u This is all that Saladin, the conqueror of the East, has 
obtained by his victories /" And when Dean Swift, near 
his last days, was told that the people without were cele- 
brating his birthday, he said : — " It is all folly ; they had 
better let it alone." Such things afford but a very poor 
consolation to a dying man. 

As Livy so well expresses it, " Nothing is so uncertain 
as the minds of the multitude." There is no deciding 
beforehand what it will accept, and what reject ; what it 
will praise, and what condemn. Fame lies not in the act, 
but in its reception by the public. Some very insignifi- 
cant things have met with very great favor, while some 
very great deeds have received no notice whatever. Some 
of the noblest of men, and we may say, some of the 
greatest, were never known beyond their own immediate 
neighborhood. As Montaigne justly observes : — " Is it 
reasonable that the life of a wise man should depend 
upon the judgment of fools ?" It is not reasonable, but 
for all that, it is true. Fortune did far more for Caesar, 
Alexander and Napoleon than she has ever had thanks 
for, and in building up and perpetuating their fame, his- 
tory has done the rest. Of Plato, we have no personal 
account. Of his family, we know nothing — even that he 
had a family, we do not know. And so with Aristotle 
and many others. 

Montaigne, that grand old gentleman, goes on fur- 
ther: — "Of so many thousands and thousands of valiant 
men that have died within these fifteen hundred years in 
France, with their swords in their hands, not a hundred 
have come to our knowledge ; but memory not of com- 



48 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

manders only, but of battles and victories, is buried and 
gone ; the fortunes of above half the world, for want of 
a record, stir not from their place, and vanish without 
duration." He might have gone still further. Not only 
men, but cities have been buried and forgotten. The 
place where some of the most renowned once were, to-day 
is not known. New cities* have been built upon the very 
grave of buried and forgotten capitals, without so much 
as their existence being suspected. Even nations have 
gone down before the merciless scythe of time, and have 
long since passed into oblivion. What, then, can there 
be that is real and substantial in the fame of a single and 
unimportant individual? Really, the best of men who 
seek fame are as badly off as the philosopher, of whom 
somebody remarked : — " He is a fool who torments him- 
self while living, to be spoken of when dead." What 
difference does it make whether it is a million, or only a 
hundred, or perhaps ten, of those who remember us 
when we are gone ? What interest have we in people we 
have never seen, and to whom we have never been per- 
sonally known? It is well enough to have the good 
opinion of those with whom we live and associate, but 
what earthly difference does it make to us what people 
think of us in Siberia, or even in Spain or Italy? Very 
little now, and absolutely no difference after we are 
dead. 

And here we might quote the words of Colton: — 
"There are two things that ought to teach us to think 
meanly of human glory : the very best have their calum- 
niators, and the very worst, their panegyrists." The 
dying words of Mahmoud, the conqueror of India, ought 
to impress upon our minds the same awful lesson. When 
he felt himself dying, he caused all his treasures of gold 
and jewels to be brought before him, and when he sur- 
veyed them thus for the last time, he wept like a child. 
" Alas ! " said he, " what dangers, what fatigues of body 
and mind, have I endured for the sake of acquiring those 
treasures, and what cares in preserving them." We are 



THE STUDY OF MAN 49 

told, further, that he was buried in his palace, and his 

ghost haunted it to the last day. 

We close this article by an extract from a poem by Sir 

Henry Wotton : — 

11 Farewell, ye gilded follies ! pleasing troubles ; 
Farewell, ye honor'd rags, ye glorious bubbles ; 
Fame's but a hollow echo, gold pure clay, 
Honor the darling but of one short day, 
Beauty, th' eye's idol, but a damask'd skin, 
State but a golden prison to live in 
And torture free-born minds ; embroider'd trains, 
Merely but pageants for proud-swelling veins ; 
And blood, allied to greatness, is alone 
Inherited, not purchased, nor our own. 
Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood, and birth, 
Are but the fading blossoms of the earth. 

11 I would be great, but that the sun doth still 
Level his rays against the rising hill ; 
I would be high, but see the proudest oak 
Most subject to the rending thunder-stroke ; 
I would be rich, but see men too unkind 
Dig in the bowels of the richest mind ; 
I would be wise, but that I often see 
The fox suspected, while the ass goes free ; 
I would be fair, but see the fair and proud, 
Like the bright sun, oft setting in a cloud ; 
I would be poor, but know the humble grass 
Still trampled on by each unworthy ass ; 
Rich, hated ; wise, suspected ; scorn'd, if poor ; 
Great, fear'd ; fair, tempted ; high, still envied more. 
I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither 
Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair — poor I'll be rather." 



SHAMS AND SHAMS. 

The department of shams in this world's affairs is more 
extensive than even observing persons would believe. The 
fondness of people, and especially the American people, 
for shams, and things that are absurd and entirely un- 
believable, is absolutely astonishing. If our rank, in 
point of intelligence, depended upon what we believe, 



50 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

we might easily pass for a nation of idiots. Our daily 
walks and our life's doings are full of ridiculous shams. 

As a fair type of the shams that prevail everywhere, 
we might refer to the shams that may be noticed in the 
proceedings of our Legislature. Men are sent to the State 
-or national capital to make laws. But as a matter of fact, 
they do not make laws, and most of them do not even 
help to make laws. The law is really made, when it is 
made, by one who drafts the bill, a piece of work that is 
done, usually, a long distance from the capital. When it 
gets before the Legislature, it is the committee — the po- 
tent committee — that manipulates the matter, and generally 
decides the fate of the bill. Many bills are strangled in 
the committees, and never see the light after they get 
there. We hear of the three separate readings of bills, 
and assume that every legislator reads, or hears read, all 
the bills upon which he votes. But really he does no 
such thing. The reading is generally a sham, and the 
listening on the part of the law-makers a still greater sham. 
Speeches are made as if to influence the vote of brother 
members, but really they are spoken to be printed, and 
read by their constituents — for buncombe. A writer truly 
observes : "From beginning to end, the forms of legislation 
are a sham; and legislation itself is a sham." What is 
bad about the matter is, that there are not only shams in 
legislation, but shams everywhere. 

One of the flourishing religions of the day is Mormon- 
ism. It was built up, as every one knows who is acquainted 
with its rise and progress, upon fraud and sham. Yet it 
rises, spreads and prospers ; every day adds to the strength 
and durability of the foundations, and to the permanence 
and importance of the institution which they support. 
How it arose, and what was the history and character of 
the man with whom it originated, is well set forth in the 
following paragraph taken from the North American Re- 
view : 

Joe Smith was born in Rutland, Vt, about the time 
that Wingate, the combined forger and religious charlatan, 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 51 

made such a sensation there. He removed, when a youth, 
to- Palmyra, New York, and there Kigdon found him. 
Smith was full of magnetism, full of warm blood, a 
hearty, generous fellow — from the description an original, 
untutored Jim Fisk. After proper training Smith became 
the prophet, and Kigdon the inspiration behind him, put- 
ting cunning words in the mouth of the boor. At last 
Smith rinding how pleasant it was to play prophet, and 
flattered by the devotion paid him, drew away from the 
cold Kigdon. For one of his sensual nature, it was but 
natural to conclude that if celestial plural marriages were 
good, it was a grievous waste of time to wait for death to 
sanctify them ; that real women were greatly to be pre- 
ferred to doubtful and unsubstantial ghosts, and that the 
right thing was to be sealed to those still in the flesh. So 
he had a revelation; polygamy became a part of the 
Mormon religion, and Joe Smith a little Mohammed. Fol- 
lowers began to flock rapidly around Smith. Probably 
without being conscious of the fact, he had made animal- 
ism the key-stone in the arch of his creed, and given to 
his church all the adhesiveness which cements Christian 
creeds, and in addition all the fascination which, to sensual 
natures, clings to Mohammedism. Thenceforth the in- 
stitution thrived until it became so much of a nuisance, 
and took on attributes of such menace to free government, 
that in a paroxysm of rage the mob killed Smith. Though 
his life had been full of irregularities, in the hearts of his 
followers his death made him a martyred prophet, who 
had died for his people, and ever since he has been held 
by them as one to be reverenced next to tlie Nazarene. 

That the golden plates were originally deposited in a 
hill near Palmyra, and were finally given to Smith, who, 
after much difficulty, deciphered them, and that Smith 
was a holy man, and was sent by Grod to thus raise up 
and direct his people, all this is something that every true 
Mormon steadfastly believes. But the Mormon is not 
lacking in intelligence. He is about up to the average in 
that regard. He believes in his sham, and rejects all other 



52 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

shams. And so it is with all men. They all believe in 
shams, but are very precise about the particular sham 
which they decide to adopt. 

The proudest and most enlightened people on the earth 
are given to belief in shams and impostures. We recently 
saw an account in a French journal in regard to two most 
remarkable relics which were exposed for sale at a curiosity 
shop in Paris. One was a piece of stuff resembling a 
dried banana peel, and on the card attached to it an 
inscription was traceable to the intent that the sub- 
stance was "a piece of the skin of the serpent which 
tempted mother Eve in Paradise. Adam killed the reptile 
next day with a spear, of which the trace can yet be seen. 
Authenticity guaranteed by savants and theologians."' 
The other curiosity is a long black hair, attached to a 
piece of parchment by some wax. The inscription reads : 
" Hair of Charles II," known as " the bald king of France." 
Doubtless some one will be found to purchase even these 
relics, for they must be genuine. Bead the history of the 
swindling concerns in the cities, and observe how the 
people catch at the improbable and incredible. Let some 
one advertise what cannot be done, and most people 
would believe it from the very miraculousness of the 
affair. Bead the quack medicine certificates. They are 
generally frauds from beginning to end, and yet they are 
very entertaining and impressive literature for many 
people. 

Men are perpetually striving to be what they cannot be, 
and seeming to # be what they are not. If it were possible 
to weigh sham and honesty by the same standard of 
power and influence in this world, we do believe the 
former would greatly overbalance the latter. Every man, 
even in his daily walks, appears with his face disguised 
with a mask. Men are constantly pretending to be what 
they know they are not It is thus that it happens so 
often that the unsuspecting creditor is taken in by the too 
plausible debtor. It is thus that men are deceived in a 
thousand other ways, and made to repent the confidence 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 53 

they had reposed in the pretensions of others. It is thus 
that innocent and unsophisticated people come to believe 
that a man is a whole man, when the fact often is, he is 
only half or three-quarters of a man — or, perhaps, is no 
man at all. The devoted student of human nature finally 
learns that there are wooden men, putty men, men of straw 
and spurious men. They have all the semblance of true 
men — nevertheless they are not men in the strict sense of 
the term — they are not genuine. 

Alas ! this is an age of sham. It thrives, it grows, it 
strengthens, it prospers — and all this on a soil where 
honesty and truthfulness can do little more than gain a 
bare living. People love sham, and therefore patronize it. 
The present as it is, and the future as it should be, seem 
to afford little real satisfaction to any one. We want to 
get out of ourselves and away from ourselves ; or, as Lord 
Shaftesbury has it, "A restlessness to have something 
which we have not, and to be something which we are 
not, is the root of all immorality." 



FICTIONS OF HISTORY. 

Does not the world make its own heroes after all ? Men 
are not heroes till the world pronounces them such ; in 
other words, makes them such. It is curious to see what 
a long time it takes the world to bring out its hero and 
give him his proper stage dress — sometimes a century 
after he was born, and sometimes even more. When a 
man dies, we put him into the ground, and then administer 
on his effects; and not only on his effects, but on his 
character and conduct also. The development of his 
personal history goes on just the same as if he were living, 
with this difference, that he is no more at hand to speak 
in his own defense, or correct the false passages that some 
crazy head, or malicious hand, may put into history. It 
must never be forgotten that the one that sees things has 



54 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

as much to do with the view that is taken of them, their 
appearance and effect, as the things have themselves. 

It should not be forgotten that what is written is not 
necessarily true, even if said honestly and with the utmost 
fairness. What the author says is only his view of the 
matter. He only gives his ideas of the subject, and sim- 
ply paints the picture as he finds it represented to his eye. 
To the eye of some one else, it may appear quite different. 
Many things are to be taken as facts only on condition 
that other facts are overlooked and forgotten. Bona- 
parte's crossing the Alps is called the greatest feat of the 
kind known to history, and yet MacDonald's passage of 
the Splugen was far greater, far more difficult, and was 
attended with much greater perils. 

How difficult it is for us to decide what to believe and 
what not to believe of all that is written in history ! There 
was an interesting story told of Mucius, and repeated for 
hundreds of j^ears after his death. Caught in the camp 
of Porsenna, with intent to kill him, Mucius was taken 
and put to the torture. But he thrust his hand into the 
fire and let it burn, rather than divulge a syllable in refer- 
ence to the conspiracy that had been formed, of which he 
was a member. Yet, sad enough, modern criticism has 
entirely destroyed the foundations of this beautiful story, 
and we are now at a loss to know whether such a man as 
Mucius ever lived, much less, whether he ever put his 
hand into the fire and let it burn, as has been stated in 
history. The stories of Pocahontas and Captain Smith, 
Thomas Jefferson and the Declaration, George Washing- 
ton and his little hatchet, General Putnam and the wolf, 
William Tell and the apple, are now to be classed with 
such pretty nursery stories as Goody Two Shoes, Sinbad 
the Sailor, and Cinderella, all of which are highly interest- 
ing, and any one of them having about as much founda- 
tion in fact as the others. 

There is a popular story that on one occasion, when the 
late Mr. John Wilson Croker and the Duke of Wellington 
met at dinner at a friend's house, the veteran placeman 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 00 

set the Puke right on many points of politieal warfare. 
The Duke submitted to correction on the making of 
cartridges, but absolutely refused to be instructed on the 
manner in which the battle of Waterloo was fought. With 
exceptional modesty, Croker once condescended to solicit 
information from the Duke on some of the wonderful 
stories to which M. Lamartine had given currency. The 
chief points of inquiry are whether at the last charge at 
Waterloo the Duke drew his sabre and •" charged like a 
common trooper," and whether he used the familiar 
words, "Up, Guards, and at them!" The assurances 
which he received in reply were satisfactory ; the Duke 
did neither the one nor the other. Both statements may 
be ranked among the exploded fictions of the past. 

Much has been said since the war ended about General 
Butler and the spoons he was reported to have stolen. It 
was a pleasant subject to talk about, and the story being 
generally reported, of course it was generally believed. 
But now that the facts are known, it is interesting to see 
how much foundation there was for this scrap of sensa- 
tional literature : 

A lady went to General Garfield, afterwards President, 
and introduced herself as the daughter of General David 
E. Twiggs, who left our army, when he had gained the 
rank of major-general, to join the secessionists at the open- 
ing of the rebellion. She stated her object to be the 
recovery of her father's two swords captured by General 
Butler when he entered New Orleans in the Spring of 
1862. One sword had been voted to Twiggs by Congress, 
in recognition of his services during the Mexican war ; the 
other was the weapon he had drawn in behalf of the Con- 
federacy. She was particularly anxious to secure the 
latter, because her father had prized it far above its fellow. 
Garfield referred her to Butler, whom she feared to meet 
on account of the terrible reputation he had gained in the 
South. Having been assured that he was not nearly so 
black as he had been painted, she sought him out, and, to 
her surprise, was very politely received He informed 



56 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

her that he had sent the swords to Washington, with the 
request that one be given to the Annapolis Academy and 
the other to West Point, as trophies of the civil war. 
His request was not complied with. They were, instead, 
locked up in the vaults of the treasury for safe-keeping, 
and one of the duplicate keys was delivered to him. 
He then added : " You have not, my dear madam, 
asked me about your family plate, which I have so often 
been accused of- stealing to decorate my own table with. 
You, no doubt, in common with many Southerns, think 
the charge true. I will enlighten you on the subject. 
As soon as I had occupied your father's house, one of 
your colored servants came to me with a load of silver, 
saying that your father had buried it in the garden to 
keep it away from the hated Yankees ; but that as now 
he had gone, the servant, having seen the act, dug it up 
and was desirous to hand it over to the proper authorities. 
I used the silver while at my headquarters at your father's 
place, but afterward I turned every piece — spoons, salvers 
and dishes — over to the quartermaster's department. 
Here, madam, are the vouchers for every article brought 
to me by your colored servant." And Butler opened 
his desk and took out a neatly arranged packet of 
papers, each of which was regularly and formally signed 
and credited, relieving Butler from all responsibility in 
this much vexed matter. 

Man never has known, and probably never will know, 
just how much of all that which we believe to be fact, is 
purely and mathematically true, and how much is, either 
in whole or in part, merely a product of the imagination. 
It is really strange to see how much of that which we 
know to be unqualifiedly and unconditionally true, as, 
for instance, the laws of health, the rights of individuals, 
and the like ; how much of these, we repeat, we treat as 
fictitious and imaginary, while other things, such as the 
creatures of romance, the fancies of poetry, etc., which 
we know to be false, we treat with the greatest considera- 
tion, as being unquestionably real. Indeed, the mind 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 57 

becomes uncertain as to what is fiction and what is not, 
and hence it happens that most of the leading characters 
described in books of romance, as Blue Beard, Robin 
Hood, Kobinson Crusoe, Pickwick and Sam Weller, 
have just as real an existence for us, in our minds, as any 
of the figures in our most reliable histories. And then 
there are the people, and the deeds of people, that belong 
"to our poetry. What man is more real for us, or who 
that ever lived and breathed and acted, was more living 
and more substantial than Iago, Macbeth, Shylock, Ulys- 
ses, Ajax, Komulus, Helen, Paris, Hercules, and a thou- 
sand other important characters that we need not mention ? 
If these people never lived, and if they never were flesh 
and blood, and bone and sinew, like us, who that ever 
lived, except the few that we see now around us perhaps, 
were more living and more real than they ? Why, the 
truest and most reliable book that ever came from the 
printing press, the Bible, is now doubted by men, and 
some of its most devoted friends pronounce this portion 
allegory, that fable, that fiction, and that as simply and 
unmistakably a falsehood. We are obliged to doubt 
whether there ever were such folks in the world as Adam, 
and Noah, and Abraham, and David, and Goliah, and 
Samson, to say nothing of beings so difficult to compre- 
hend as God himself and the Devil. But if the Bible is 
not true, and all that is in it, what book that is a hundred 
years old is true ? What book is founded on better au- 
thority, or is written by men who were more truly in- 
spired? What book is supported by such an array of 
concurring testimony as the Holy Bible ? If the Bible, 
with its accumulated testimony of two thousand years, 
w r ill not stand criticism, where is the one book that will? 
Works of romance are founded on facts, and what more 
can be said of history? Fact furnishes the frame work, 
the warp, and imagination puts in the woof. It is so, 
and to a greater or less extent must be so, with every- 
thing that was ever written. The hard facts are there, 
but the dressing up is done by the author. Perhaps r 



58 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

after all, what we believe to be true is only what we 
imagine to be true. No doubt Herodotus believed all lie 
wrote, Virgil and Homer all they wrote, and Josephus all 
he wrote, but we, in this incredulous age, believe very 
little of all that these men wrote. We doubt very much 
as to Livy, whether it is part romance and part true, or 
all romance and none true. So it is with the Cyropedia 
of Xenophon, and some of the biographies of Plutarch. 
Thus we are in a quandary all the time, and we do not 
see that it makes the slightest difference in reality whether 
the things reported did happen or did not. It is enough 
to know that all of them might have happened. It is the 
principle and the lesson we are after, rather than the abso- 
lute fact itself. Sir Eobert Walpole said : — " Don't read 
history, that must be false." Men, generally, are not half 
so good as they are painted in history, and generally not 
half so hideous and wicked. It is impossible to tell in 
such cases how much to believe, when we know not the 
prejudices, the jealousies, and perhaps the blindness of 
the author. "All history," as one writer well says, " must 
be fiction " ; and Hume was not far from the truth when 
he exclaimed : — " We are all in the wrong." 



SELF-CONTKOL. 



"It is a strange desire," says Bacon, " to seek power, 
and to lose liberty ; or to seek power over others, and to 
lose power over one's self." There are no lessons more 
important for a man to learn than those lessons that lead 
to self-control. If a man cannot govern himself, he is 
certainly unfit to govern others. If a man has not 
learned to restrain his own appetites and passions, he is 
evidently not competent to teach others how to restrain 
theirs. There is no man so serviceable to himself, and so 
valuable to his fellows, as he who has learned to discipline 
and govern himself. No man is competent to teach 
moderation and temperance to those under him, unless he 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 59 

lias made these qualities a part of his own nature. There 
is no man so important in society as the well-balanced 
man. There is no man so successful in his undertakings 
as the moderate and prudent man. 

Some people imagine that they are their own masters. 
But their opinion is a mistaken one, view it in any light 
we choose. Not even our thoughts are our own ; not a 
single one of them ; and our efforts are not any more 
under our control. When we think of moving, we must 
always wait for the impulse, as well as for the opportunity. 
But Ave speak of restraining ourselves ; what does this 
mean ? We apprehend it means simply that we have so 
trained and disciplined ourselves, that temptations do not 
have the same effect upon us as upon weaker natures. 
This amounts practically to self-control. It is indeed an 
important element, but we must regard it rather as an 
effect of our past history and education than of any 
active, inward effort. So far as effort is concerned, the 
man who follows sin is as active as the one who avoids it. 
Self-control is the triumph of reason over appetite. To 
master ourselves should be counted among our most im- 
portant victories ; we cannot succeed in life without this 
triumph. We can seldom rind any more desperate and 
determined enemies than our own desires and passions. 
Unless they are promptly and perpetually curbed, they 
will always lead us into trouble, and sometimes down to 
ruin and disgrace. 

One of the most unfortunate weaknesses by which an 
ambitious man is retarded in his progress in life, is im- 
patience. Men must learn to wait — not wait by standing 
still, but wait by moving quietly yet constantly onward. 
They must not expect to reach the goal by a single bound, 
but by steady, oft-repeated, and never-ceasing steps. It 
is the opinion of DeMaistre that "to know how to wait, 
is the great secret of success." All greatness is reached 
by degrees. Men who rise, rise gradually. The birds 
that soar the highest, make the least noise and rise with 
the least apparent effort. The men that have become rich 



60 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

and powerful have always started from feeble beginnings. 
The world is determined that men shall earn what they 
get, and it will not consent that they shall rise from one 
condition to another in any other manner than by moder- 
ate and well-marked degrees. As Bacon says, " a man 
may not look to sow and reap at once, but must prepare 
business, and so ripen it by degrees." It is very well 
known that whatever is permanent is built up slowly. 
The everlasting hills are the work of ages ; the pyramids 
were not the work of a day ; the coral islands that rise 
from the ocean, rise gradually and imperceptibly ; the for- 
tunes of the Astors, the Yanderbilts and the Rothschilds 
are the accumulations of generations ; the fame of Caesar 
and Napoleon cost rivers of blood, untold labor, and un- 
measured sorrow. 

Bias was once in a ship, in company with some impious 
men, when there arose a tempest so furious that they all 
expected to go down to the bottom. Terrified at the pros- 
pect of death, his companions began to invoke the gods, 
but Bias, with the utmost composure and self-control, 
said: — "Be silent, for if the gods perceive that you are 
here, we shall all inevitably be lost 1 ' "A man," says 
Anacharsis, " should bend his whole attention to the ac- 
quiring a mastery over his tongue and his appetite. " But 
Palmerston never lost his temper without also loosing his 
tongue, while Pitt made it his rule never to lose his self- 
control at any time, so long as business w T as to be done. 
The great men of history have all been noted for their 
forbearance and self-restraint. This was particularly true 
of Fabius, William the Silent, Washington and Welling- 
ton. Naturally irritable, these men had so disciplined 
themselves that they rarely lost their temper under any 
•circumstances. No victory that these men ever won was 
half so great as the victory gained over themselves. 

Self-control to a large extent makes a man what he is, 
and decides what shall be his lot in life. As a man ac- 
customs himself to look at things, so it will be with him. 
If things look sorrowful to him. thev will be sorrowful 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 61 

things : but, if cheerful, they will be cheerful things. A 
man can so practice self-control, and so manage to restrain 
himself, that nothing will cause him either serious annoy- 
ance or lasting distress. 



FICTION OF VALUES. 

"Fancy it Burgundy." said Boniface of his ale, — "only 
fancy it. and it is worth a guinea a quart." 

Everybody is interested in having a clear idea of the 
nature of value. Everybody feels that he understands 
the worth of things, and little dreams, perhaps, how chi- 
merical he would find it on close inspection and careful 
consideration. 

No person can really succeed in business life who is not 
early impressed with the fact that all values are not real, 
but fictitious ; that what a thing is worth to-day is no 
assurance of what it will be worth to-morrow, or that it will 
be worth anything at all when to-morrow comes. Some 
things are subject to greater fluctuations in value than 
others, but all are fairly embraced within the folds of this 
law. 

Things have no value in themselves, and that value 
which they do get is borrowed from surrounding circum- 
stances. When the controlling influences change, their 
values must change also. TVe see this well illustrated in 
those stocks which to-day may be worth, one hundred dol- 
lars, and to-morrow, perhaps, not a penny. Things are 
worth, bear in mind, only what we can get for them, or 
what we can use them for. If we can neither sell nor use 
them, they are absolutely worthless to us. A piece of 
paper, like a bank bill or government bond, may be worth. 
to us. in the values it may get for us, perhaps one thou- 
sand dollars, and yet the thing itself, the bill, may be 
manufactured for a few cents, and it is really worth no 
more. We think gold has a real value, but only because 
it is taken by so many people in exchange for the com- 



62 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

modities we desire. Herein it differs from paper. When 
we meet with people who will not have gold, we begin to 
see in what its value consists. Dr. Barth in the interior 
of Africa found shells, and even a red piece of cloth, 
more valuable than rubies or gold. For a long time the 
Chinese could see no value in anything but silver and 
ginseng. 

What can be more fanciful or unreal than the amount 
of property which a man conceives himself to be worth ? 
He is more apt to measure this by the sum it has cost 
him, than by what he can get for it. He forgets entirely 
that so far as all value is concerned, what he cannot sell 
or use, he might as well not have at all. Again, we are 
too apt to measure amounts by the number of dollars they 
represent, rather than by what we can buy with them. 
Some persons are richer with a hundred than others with 
a thousand dollars; they may have less calls for their 
money, or can buy more of what they need with these 
smaller amounts. So it is not so much our concern to 
ascertain what we shall receive, or what we shall have, as- 
to ask what we must or can do with it when we get it 

For all practical purposes, a person is worth to himself 
what he thinks he is worth ; and he is worth to others- 
just what he can make them believe it to be. TVe observe 
that this is all a matter of belief and fancy. But is there 
no difference between a man's being worth a million and 
only conceiving it to be so ? None whatever to him, so 
long as he remains undeceived, nor to the world, if they 
believe with him. His feelings would not be different if 
half of what he was worth had, without his knowledge,, 
been blotted from existence. 

Is it not plain that all our ideas of wealth are matters 
of belief and fancy ? [Take this for example : We own 
a horse. We think him well prized at two hundred dol- 
lars. In one hour he is passed into the hands of another 
party, who fixes his price at two thousand, and he passes 
at that rating. There is, of course, no change in the real 
value of the horse, but only in our belief and concep- 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 63 

tions. It is not long since that we saw in an advertise- 
ment an offer of twenty-five dollars for a cent of the year 
1799. Was that its value ? 

This law also holds good in the estimate which we put 
upon the ability of men. It is a matter of little impor- 
tance what they are, or what they can do ; the question is 
only what they can pass for. How do we know whether 
.any man of ancient, or even modern, times is counted 
now at .his real value, or at double or half his true worth ? 
And what matter is it to us which of the two it is? 
'Things are for us what at the time we believe they are. 

We estimate the value of things by what they cost, 
what they produce, and what we can do with them. Sco- 
pas, the Thessalonian, said to one who desired of him 
something that was apparently of no value to him, "It is 
in these useless and superfluous things that I am rich and 
"happy. " There is, we see, no unvarying standard in the 
value of things. 

The merest whim and the oddest conception suffices to 
give articles a value they were never thought to have be- 
fore. Thus, to quote from the "Idler," "Some things 
-are treasured up as inestimably valuable, because the im- 
pression was made before the plate was finished. Of 
course, the price rises not from the purity of the metal, 
the excellence of the workmanship, the elegance of the 
legend, or the chronological use. A piece of which 
neither the inscription can be read, nor the face distin- 
guished, if there remain of it but enough to show that it 
is rare, will be sought by contending nations, and dignify 
the treasury in which it shall be shown." The simplest 
fiction, or the most trifling novelty, often serves to bring 
into notice and give a value to things which before were 
deemed to be comparatively worthless. So Kembrandt, 
the painter, being out of funds, and his pictures lying 
heavily upon his hands, had it given out that he was 
dead, and his paintings, finished and unfinished, were ad- 
vertised for sale. It was a happy thought. When the 
sale came, there was a crowd in attendance, and the num- 



64 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

ber of those who wanted to preserve some specimen, if it 
were nothing but a simple sketch, done by this master's 
hand, was astonishingly large. Kembrandt gained a rich 
harvest and came to life again, but the Dutch are not fond 
of such tricks, and by them the painter was never for- 
given for the deception. 

In nothing is the fiction of values so well exemplified 
as in literary productions. By some, the same work may 
be considered as valueless, while others may regard it as of 
almost inestimable worth. The exquisite tale of Paul 
and Virginia, written by St, Pierre, was read one evening 
in the presence of such men as Buffon and Thomas, and 
it met with such a cold reception at the hands of these 
celebrities, that the author decided to consign his manu- 
script to the flames and burn it as worthless. But a friend 
of his dissuaded him from such a course. It was finally 
published, and as a literary venture, proved a great suc- 
cess, thus demonstrating what we have claimed, that what 
is valueless in the eyes of some men, may be deemed ex- 
tremely valuable in the eyes of others. A man's life may 
be, and generally is, of great value to himself, but for 
another, some mere trifle surpasses it in value. Theodore 
Hook says that when he was a lad at school, two boys 
went to a pond for the purpose of swimming gallipots, 
both belonging to the older of the two. In the excite- 
ment of the occasion, the small boy fell into the water, 
and after struggling for a while, sank to the bottom and 
was drowned. The bigger boy made little effort to save 
his companion, and when questioned about it afterwards 
by his master, he burst into tears, and said : — " I do think 
I could have saved Green — but if I had tried, I should 
have lost my gallipot." 

To show what an absurd or fictitious value so small a 
thing as a label may give to an article, let us quote from 
Sidney Smith: — " Have- you never observed,'' says he, 
" what a dislike servants have to anything cheap ? They 
hate saving their master's money. I tried this experi- 
ment with great success the other day. Finding we con- 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 65 

sumed a great deal of soap, I sat down in my thinking 
chair, took the soap question into consideration, and I 
found reason to suspect that we were using a very ex- 
pensive article, where a much cheaper one would serve 
the purpose better. I ordered half a dozen pounds of 
both sorts, but took the precaution of changing the papers 
on which the prices were marked, before giving them into 
the hands of Betty. 'Well, Betty, which soap do you 
find washes best ?' ' Oh, please, sir, the dearest, in the 
blue paper. It makes a lather as well again as the other.' 
4 AY ell, Betty, you shall have it then,' — and thus the un- 
suspecting Betty saved me some pounds a year, and 
washed the clothes better." 

The following paragraph from an unknown author 
affords the best illustration we have ever seen of the 
variableness of values. " Tennyson," says the writer, 
" can take a worthless sheet of paper, and by writing a 
poem on it, make it worth $5,000. That's genius. Mr. 
Vanderbilt can write fewer words on a similar sheet and 
make it worth 850,000,000. That's capital. And the 
United States Government can take an ounce and a quar- 
ter of gold and stamp upon it an k eagle bird 1 and 
'twenty dollars.' That's money. The mechanic can take 
the material worth $50 and make it into a watch worth 
8100. That's skill. The merchant can take an article 
w r orth 25 cents and sell it for $1. That's business. The 
ditch-digger works ten hours a day and shovels out three 
or four tons of earth for $1- That's labor." 



ABOUT WHIMS. 



If every foolish notion is a whim, and it undoubtedly 
is, how much of the thoughts and fancies of the wisest 
and best of men is made up of whims ! Perhaps one-half 
the conclusions or impressions which are found among 
ordinary men are not founded in reason or sense. They 
either start from false premises, or they draw hasty infer- 



66 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

ences, or as happens in very many cases, they do not 
reason at all. The great are as superstitious and whimsi- 
cal as the small, and the learned are as often unreasonable 
as the ignorant. Even the great Caesar, if we may follow 
Shakespeare, had his weaknesses in this direction : — 

But it is doubtful yet 
Whe'r Caesar will come forth to-day, or no, 
For he is superstitious grown of late, 
Quite from the main opinion he had once 
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies ; 
It may be these apparent prodigies, 
The unaccustomed terror of this night, 
And the persuasion of his augurers, 
May hold him from the Capitol to-day. 

People show their insane notions in nothing more than 
in the value they attach to certain things. Things abso- 
lutely useless, and consequently worthless, they often hold 
at a high price, as some coin that has become scarce, or 
which was the first or last of a certain class issued ; a cane 
from a tree that stood near Washington's grave, or a splin- 
ter from a rail said to be split by Abraham Lincoln. All 
such things are treasured up by some people as almost 
priceless. 

Lord Bacon, who, if he was " the meanest," certainly 
was " the wisest " of mankind, had almost as many freaks 
and whims as any ordinary crazy person. He had great 
faith in nitre, and he swallowed three grains of the drug 
every morning for thirty years. Once a week he took a 
dose of " Water of Mithridate," and once a month regu- 
larly a dose of castor oil. Eveiy sixth or seventh day, 
lie drank an effusion of rhubarb in white wine and beer, 
just before dinner. Surely, it is only a step from a wise 
man to a fool, and sometimes the two become so mixed 
that it is hard telling one from the other. Byron ran wild 
on aristocratic pretensions, and to his mind the praise of a 
duchess was more to be valued than the admiration of a 
thousand untitled ladies. Scott had a weakness in the 
same direction. Napoleon did his thinking and formed 
his plans for conquest while pacing in a garden, shrugging 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 67 

his shoulders now and then as if to help and compress 
thought. TThen Thiers was engaged in his longest ora- 
torical displays, he always had beside him a supply of rum 
and coffee. The coffee he got direct from Mocha. Gib- 
son dictated while walking in his room, like Scott and 
many others. Moliere wrote with his knees near the fire, 
and Bacon liked to study in a small room, which, he said, 
helped him to condense his thoughts. George Stephen- 
son used to lie in bed for two or three days, the better to 
*' think out " his plan. Johnson liked to imbibe floods of 
tea or wine, and yet was none the worse for it. Porson 
drank everything that came in his way. Visiting once a 
friend's house, when evening came they desired to fill the 
lamp, but the bottle was empty. Porson had drunk the 
spirits on the sly. not knowing it was intended for the 
lamp. TThile we are mentioning distinguished men, we 
might remind the reader of Shelley, who usually ate a 
baked potato previous to sitting down to write. ' He had 
Iris best ideas while putting on the butter. ^Eschylus, 
Eupolis, Cratinus and Ennius are said never to have sat 
clown to compose till they were intoxicated, which we 
think is a very crazy notion. Dry den often had himself 
bled, and, like Fuseli, ate raw meat to assist, so he said, 
lis imagination. Boxhorne, the great Dutch scholar, 
could never write a word without a pipe in his mouth. 
Hobbes had the same weakness, " ten or twelve pipes 
"with a candle " being his invariable concomitants at the 
desk. Even a robust and practical scholar like Bishop 
Warburton tells us that he could only write "in a hand- 
to-mouth style,' 1 and that the blowing of an east wind, a 
fit of the spleen, or the fact that he had not his books 
round him, completely destroyed his power of compo- 
sition. William Prynne, the voluminous author of the 
" Histriomastrix," was nothing " without a long quilted 
cap which came an inch over his eyes." Buff on was 
helpless without a spotless shirt and a starched frill. 
Still stranger were the whims of Graham, the author of 
l ' The Sabbath," and Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, who, 



68 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

if we are to believe De Quincey, found their vein never 
ran happily unless they sat down to their tasks with 
boots and spurs on. 

The following may be noticed as crazy notions prevail- 
ing among country people : The howling of a dog is the 
sign of a death in a family. The best of people have a 
superstitious dread of sitting down at table where the 
number is thirteen — as if the number of the company had 
something to do with the fate of its members. Dreaming 
of losing teeth is a bad sign ; so is walking under a lad- 
der. If the eyes of a corpse are hard to close, they are 
said to be looking for a successor. If a tingling in the 
ears is heard, news of the death of a friend may soon be 
expected. 

Another class of whims, or peculiarities, is the follow- 
ing: Some men cannot bear to touch velvet, or see 
others handle cork. One of the Earls of Barrymore 
hated the pansy, and Scaliger turned pale at the sight of 
water-cresses. Some men will not eat cheese, and others 
will not taste milk ; and others still cannot endure butter. 
Gov. William Mathews hated the spider. John Peach- 
man, a learned divine, could not bear to see the floor 
swept. Orfila, a distinguished French physician, went 
into spasms when roses were brought into the room. Na- 
poleon would tremble with fear at sight of a cat, while 
General Elliott, of Gibraltar fame, was always accompa- 
nied by a number of them. Douglas Gerold could not 
bear the smell of apples. Cavendish hated women. If he 
met one of his servants by accident in any part of the 
house, she was instantly dismissed. Some hate honey, 
others eggs, others this, and others that, and so we might 
go on and find some one who had ridiculous whims on 
anything we might name. It might be said that these 
prejudices are the result of partial disease; and so, we 
may say, is every foolish impression. They are simply 
insane ideas, created by certain impressions which affect 
the patient as if they were real. None of these articles 
mentioned are necessarily offensive to any one. 



THE STUDY OF MA!N. 69 

Hallucinations are to be classed with whims, for a 
whim at best is only a sort of hallucination. All men 
have these in some form, and they characterize great men 
quite as much as men in ordinary stations of life. Many 
of our false notions come to us as a matter of inheritance. 
Many are taught us in the cradle, and we carry them with 
us through life on trust. But there are other absurd no- 
tions which cannot be accounted for on any such princi- 
ple. They are like dreams, and usually have about as 
much foundation in fact as dreams. It is well known 
that the first Napoleon was almost as superstitious as a 
monk. The following account is given of one of his 
most striking hallucinations. It is well authenticated, 
and is one of the very many evidences that even great 
men have their insane spells: In 1806, General Eapp, 
on his return from the siege of Dantzic, having occasion 
to speak to the Emperor, entered his study without being 
announced. He found him so absorbed that his entry 
was unperceived. The General, seeing the Emperor con- 
tinue motionless, thought he might be ill, and purposely 
made a noise. Napoleon immediately roused himself, 
and without any preamble, seizing Rapp by the arm, said 
to him, pointing to the sky, "Look there, up there." The 
General remained silent, but on being asked a second 
time, he answered that he perceived nothing. " What ! " 
replied the Emperor, " you do not see it ? It is my star ; 
it is before you, brilliant " ; then animating by degrees, 
he cried out : — " It has never abandoned me, I see it on 
all great occasions, it commands me to go forward, and it 
is a constant sign of good fortune to me." 



FANCIES AND OPINIONS. 

Very few fully realize how much there is in the conduct 
of men that is merely the result of fancy and opinion. 
It is hard deciding what is right and proper, when it all 
depends upon the notions which people may have formed 



70 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

and the prejudices they may have inherited. Different 
nations, even different communities, as well as different 
individuals, have their own peculiar ideas and their own 
ways of doing things. In Japan and the east, the car- 
penter instead of shoving the plane, draws it towards him. 
The cooper holds his tub with his toes. All sit — no one 
stands, when he works. We write from left to right — 
the Asiatics, from right to left. Everything goes by con- 
traries with these people, that is, if we are to decide the 
question. We kill our mortal enemies in this country, if 
we can. The Chinese have a better way. They kill 
themselves, and punish their enemies in that way. Gren- 
teel people among us usually have a respect for the truth, 
but among the Egyptians a clever lie is pref erred. In 
some countries a man who has but one wife is deemed 
either eccentric or a fool ; in other countries, if he has 
more than one wife, he is classed with knaves and sent to 
prison, if detected. In this country, a woman who has 
two or more husbands is despised and avoided ; but in 
Africa, Livingstone found tribes that were quite disgusted 
to hear that in England a woman had only one husband 
Spain prefers bull fights, England prize fights, but the 
lower classes of New York are most delighted with rooster 
fights and the battles of bull-dogs. Some people detest 
red hair, while others would give anything for the golden 
locks. The Chinese paint their Devil in white, as we 
always paint ours in the darkest hues. As to the peculiar 
notions that have characterized some men, even very 
eminent men, we might refer to Blaise Pascal. He 
believed with Proudhon that "property is robbery, 1 ' and 
he considered poverty, sickness and wretchedness to be 
the chief blessings of man. "No Christian," he said, 
"has a right to use any more of his property than is 
strictly necessary for his maintenance and the maintenance 
of those dependent on him ; all the rest belonged to the 
poor and needy." Sickness he considered the natural 
state of Christians, and when a man was sick, he imagined 
he was as he ought always to be. He relished the misery 



THE STUDY OF MAN 71 

of his last days as a precious mortification. Our last 
illustration of peculiar notions is taken from Holman's 
9 il Voyage Round the World": — The favorite queen of 
Duke Ephraim, of Old Calabar, was so large, that she 
could scarcely walk, or even move ; indeed, they were all 
prodigiously large, their beauty consisting more in the 
mass of physique than in the symmetry of face or figure. 
This uniform tendency to embonpoint, on an unusual 
scale, was accounted for by the singular fact, that the 
female on whom his majesty fixes his regard is regularly 
fattened np to a certain standard, previously to the nuptial 
ceremony, it appearing to be essential to the queenly 
dignity that the lady should be fat. 



ESTIMATES OF MEN, 

In onr estimates of men, as of things generally, we are 
governed very much by circumstances. Much depends 
upon our habits of thought, much upon prejudices, and 
still more upon our individual interests. When two men 
were pointed out to a Guinea trader as the greatest men 
in the world, he said " I don't know how great they may 
be, but I don't like their looks. I have often bought a 
man much better than both of them together, all bones 
and muscles, for ten guineas." It is clear enough upon 
what he based his ideas of worth. To violent Republi- 
cans, in France, Robespierre appeared as a man of admira- 
ble parts and noble virtues ; but to the bigoted monarch- 
ists he seemed a human butcher, a savage delighting in 
blood for the mere sake of blood. 

Everything depends upon the stand-point from which 
we look at men, and hence it is that the same men and 
the same people are so differently represented by different 
authors. " Nothing, " says Colton, " is more common 
than to hear directly opposite accounts of the same coun- 
tries. The difference lies not in those reported, but the 
reporter. Some men are so imperious and overbearing in 



72 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

their demeanor, that they would represent even the island- 
ers of Pellew as insolent and extortionate ; others are of 
a disposition so conciliatory and unassuming, that they 
would have little that was harsh or barbarous to record 
even of the Mussulmans of Constantinople." Men in 
power appear very different to us from the same men out 
of power ; it makes a difference whether the men we 
view are seen upon a high plane or a low plane. Madam 
de Stael found that as she grew old and less attractive, 
men saw much less point in her wit than when she was 
younger and more beautiful. It has been well remarked 
that " wit in women is a jewel which, unlike all others, 
borrows lustre from its setting, rather than bestows it ; 
since nothing is so easy as to fancy a very beautiful 
woman extremely witty." 

The motives which actuate a man, and the circum- 
stances which govern his action, should all be taken into 
account in determining the amount of credit to which he 
is entitled for what he has done. Some men are honest 
because it is impossible for them to be otherwise. Some 
are honest, because to be so is both convenient and 
agreeable ; some are honest because they have no induce- 
ment or temptation to be otherwise. But the men who 
'are really and thoroughly honest, are those who choose 
honesty when dishonesty would seem to be profitable and 
preferable. It is no proof of a man's honesty that he 
pays his debts, or declines to steal. He may do that be- 
cause he is afraid to do otherwise, or because he sees no 
benefit or gain in following the other course. It is an 
easy thing for a man to pay a debt when he has the 
money to pay with, but the credit of honesty must go to 
the man who pays when it is hard to pay, or when he is 
not compelled to pay. So we should reason with regard 
to any noble or creditable action. We should ask, what 
are the circumstances? What are the"motives? Some 
men fight because there is no chance to run away, while 
others fio-ht from a sense of clutv or from choice. Some 



THE STUDY OF MAN". 73 

men do good works amply that they may be seen of men 
■and gain credit thereby, while others do good works be- 
cause they feel them to be necessary or proper. 



DISSOLVING VIEWS OF MEN. 

k - Good God ! How rare men are. There are 18,000,000 
in Italy, and I have with difficulty found two." 

"Men deserve the contempt with which they inspire 
me. I have only to put some gold lace on the coat of my 
virtuous Republicans, and they immediately become just 
what I wish them." 

These are the observations of the great Napoleon, a 
man who understood human nature perhaps as well as 
any man that ever lived. Man is at best only a mystery. 
"We may study him for a life-time, and still not under- 
stand him. The depths of his strange nature are simply 
unfathomable. There is nothing fixed or eternal to be 
found in him. He is one thing to-day, and another to- 
morrow : in the parlor he is a saint, in his closet a devil. 
He has more hues than the chameleon. He is only what 
circumstances make him. A word may change his whole 
demeanor, and give a new tone to his character. His 
whole life is only an expression of the never-ceasing in- 
fluences that surround him. He laughs and he cries, he 
swears and he prays, he loves and he hates, he consents 
■and he refuses, all in the same hour. A breath can 
change his whole career. He talks of consistency, but 
hardly knows the meaning of the word. A man's 
whole life-time is a succession of new steps. Fate and 
circumstances drive him along like autumn leaves before 
the winter's blast He is simply what God makes him : 
he does simply what God compels him to do. The nar- 
row barriers within which he is allowed to move are as 
impassable as the walls of a feudal castle. He acts as he 
feels, and feels as the world around him makes him feel. 
He speaks of things only as he sees them, and he sees 



74 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

things only as his poor vision allows him to see them. It 
is not strange then that man is so variable. He is simply 
the resultant of a certain number of forces, the product 
of many combined energies. 

This is the picture of man in the concrete, — not any 
one man, or any set of men, but of mankind generally. 
It differs from the opinions which are commonly formed 
of him, but a careful and prolonged study of man in his- 
developments will demonstrate the accuracy of our de- 
lineations. It makes no difference in what age of the 
world we pursue our inquiries, nor where we make our 
comparisons, nor to what condition or rank of life we 
carry our investigations, we shall find man always answer- 
ing to the conditions we have just set forth. It is gener- 
ally supposed that eminent men are an exception to the 
rest of their race; that they have the strong points of 
human nature, but not the weak ones ; that they are great 
at all times and under all circumstances ; that the}' are 
always true to themselves, and never false to an}' one. 
The opinion which we thus form of them proves how lit- 
tle we know of them. We see the acts of men, but fail 
to get even a glimpse of the men themselves. Could we 
but see their "true inwardness," we should find the great- 
est of men very much the same as other people. No 
matter how handsomely they may plume their wings, nor 
how lofty their flight may be, they bear with them every- 
where the same poor human nature still. Let us examine 
into the private life and true character of some of the 
world's proudest heroes, and bring out to the clear light 
of day the conduct and characteristics of man's greatest 
favorites. Let us weigh them in the balance, and see if 
every one of them does not find himself at least a few 
grains wanting. Let us begin with Washington. To the 
American mind, he has seemed the wisest, truest and best 
of men. We read in .the elementary works, which fur- 
nish such useful and reliable reading for the youth of our 
schools, that he was not only a very good, but a very 
righteous man. We are told how often and how devoutly 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 75 

he went out into the woods to pray. And yet he was not 
a pious man. in the good old orthodox sense in which the 
word is used at the present day. \Ve read, indeed, that 
he knelt down under the trees and prayed to his Maker, 
but that proves very little in this instance. He was a 
leader in a desperate cause, and he was doubtless very 
glad to get aid from any source that he could. He might 
not have had so much confidence in the efficacy of prayer, 
but he perhaps thought that, like horse-shoes put over the 
door, it could do no harm, if it did no good. His whole 
life, both public and private, was not that of a model 
Christian. His language was often violent even to pro- 
fanity, his anger being so great on rare occasions as to 
make him appear like a madman. The fierce temper 
manifested in his youth followed him through life, but in 
later years it was held under much better control. Though 
he was a man of the highest sense of honor, he was yet 
characterized by some ridiculous vanities, as well as oc- 
casional indiscretions. He was an inveterate aristocrat, 
and had no higher idea of common people than he would 
if he had been a born king. He refused to shake hands 
promiscuously, declaring he was afraid of catching the 
itch. If we may judge by circumstances, he was, like 
military men generally, passionately fond of the fair sex. 
He made two or three love sallies in youth, but they 
failed, and he finally married a widow three months 
younger than himself, with two children. He was brave, 
but terribly bashful. Like Grant, he was a man slow of 
speech, and never appeared to greater disadvantage than 
when he attempted to make an address. But what is 
chiefly to his discredit is the little amours that he occa- 
sionally participated in, even after he was married. They 
seem perfectly well authenticated, and were of such a 
character as any nice gentleman might well be ashamed of. 
Xapoleon's selfishness and meanness is known to every 
one familiar with his history. No man ever did a baser 
or more selfish act than Napoleon when he divorced Jose- 
phine. But this was only one of a series of bad acts. 



76 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

His ambition and his envy knew no bounds. In a cer- 
tain sense, he was the most meanly selfish man ever men- 
tioned in history. Nothing was allowed to stand in the 
way of his race for glory. He was a murderer, a robber, 
a liar and a libertine, with all that these words imply. He 
kept Europe in an uproar, desolated not only towns, 
but countries, simply to gratify his insane ambition. He 
recognised neither the ties of family, of friendship, or of 
country. Even his brothers and sisters were compelled to 
sacrifice all for him ; friends remained friends only so 
long as they humbly did his bidding; and as for his 
country, if he had cared more for that and less for him- 
self, his career would have been different. His whole life 
shows how bad a man can be, and perhaps will be, when 
he has the power to carry out his wishes and do as he 
pleases. 

Speaking of Louis XI Y, one writer says: — "In the 
grave, the most majestic of princes is only five feet eight. 
In history, the hero and the politician dwindles into a vain, 
a feeble tyrant, the slave of priests and women, little in 
war, little in government, little in everything but the art 
of simulating greatness." 

We might speak of Caesar, of Alexander, of Pompey, 
-of Antony, of Demosthenes, and of Cicero, to illustrate 
our case. We might refer even to the gods themselves, 
as pictured in the imagination of the ancients, who had 
their full share of brutal and unmanly characteristics. 
But let us turn to the saintly Martin Luther. Martin 
Luther was one of the few great men of the world, and 
it is for that reason we take the greater pleasure in point- 
ing out his frequent shortcomings and many little failings. 
We wish to demonstrate that our great spirits, after all, 
have their manifold weaknesses. 

Luther was a monk, and though he for some reason or 
other concluded finally to desert the fraternity, he con- 
tinued to be a monk after all. He was excessively super- 
stitious. He feared the Devil more than he did the Pope, 
and he seems to have imagined in his quasi delirium that 



THE STUDY OF MAN", 77 

some imp was hidden in almost every corner around him. 
He was imperious and unyielding, and he had a temper 
that would often warm up and boil over like a volcano. 
His language was often rude, and sometimes vulgar. His 
treatment of Erasmus was unmanly, unchristianlike, and 
brutal. He may have been honest, but he lacked con- 
sistency. He was not only for a long time a monk, but, 
"in the early part of his career, one of the most in- 
tolerant champions of Papal authority"; and we really 
suspect he would have been a monk till his death, had it 
not been for some conceived offence, or some motive of 
self-interest, which impelled him to a change. 

But what caused the greatest scandal was Luther's mar- 
riage to an escaped nun, after he had remained a bachelor 
to the age of forty -two. His getting - married at all was 
deemed objectionable under the circumstances ; but his 
marrying a woman who had not long before run away 
from a nunnery, added greatly to the noise that was 
made. Then, too, he married in too great haste, doing it, 
as he said, u to please his father, tease the Pope, and vex 
the Devil." Perhaps that was the real cause, and perhaps 
not. Gossip gave other reasons, common enough in later 
days. Unpleasant stories were told about Martin before 
he got married, and stories still more unpleasant after the 
ceremony. They may be true, and they may not — there 
is no telling at this late day. That Martin was at times 
rather an indiscreet boy, and even a little lascivious also, 
seems evident enough to our mind. Certain it is that 
even Luther himself, when he came to look at his mar- 
riage in his cooler moments, was heartily ashamed of it. 
It might be added that Luther had very crude notions of 
the proper relations to exist between man and woman. 
He did himself much discredit in giving his sacred permit 
to the Landgrave of Hesse to take a second wife while he 
had one wife living. Luther excused himself by saying 
that some men might better have two wives than commit 
other sins that were worse. Luther was a man of the 
world in more senses than one. He was a good liver 



78 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

generally, and no man in Germany liked his wine better 
than this humble monk of Wittenberg. But with all his 
faults, Martin was a loving husband and a kind father. 
When his first son was born, he said he felt himself 
richer than Croesus. He was inexorable and relentless 
against his enemies, and his advice, in regard to the poor 
peasants who were fighting for their religion and indepen- 
dence, was to kill the vile fellows, " without mercy, like 
mad dogs !" That was Martin Luther. 



PHILOSOPHY. 



When Crates was asked what was the use of his philoso- 
phy, he replied: — "To learn to be contented with pulse, 
and to live without care or anxiety." 

But it will not answer to write philosophy in this day and 
generation — especially not in this land of free and rapid 
movement. People have no time to think, or when they 
have the time, they lack the inclination. They have no 
fondness for the theoretical, when there are so many 
things that are established. They prefer to wade along 
the shore, or skim over the surface, rather than try the 
uncertain depths of inquiry and doubt. Hidden truths 
are very difficult to detect, and people find it more pleas- 
ant to pick up what they can discover, than to try 
their fortune amid the uncertainties of fields unknown. 
People want to read that which reads easy, something 
which, if there be anything good in it, can be compre- 
hended at a glance ; or to speak plainly about it, they dis- 
like everything that demands labor, and they have an 
abhorrence for hard work. 



LAKGE MEN. 



We have a wholesome regard for large men, for it often 
happens that large men are great men ; nay, they are some- 
times good men. We have rather got it into our head 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 79 

that a man cannot be a very strong man mentally, unless 
he is also a strong man physically. We are confident, 
somehow or other, that mental strength and physical 
strength do go together. We have come to have a con- 
tempt for diminutive men. They may be bright, they may 
be brilliant, but they are never solid, never stable. They 
may do or say smart things, but never great things. They 
may know and understand a great many matters ; they 
may deceive us by a semblance of power and goodness 
for a while, but an intimate acquaintance will be sure to 
convince us that they lack some, if not many, of the ele- 
ments of the true man. And yet there are exceptions to 
all rules. It will not answer to judge a man by his size 
alone. Some very large men have been very thick-headed, 
and some very small men have achieved mighty things. 
The size of men should not, in estimating their power, be 
estimated by feet and inches. Men may not appear large, 
and yet be physically strong. Men may not be very tall 
or very corpulent, and yet be very powerful. Napoleon 
was a small man, if we consider his height and weight, 
and yet he was well knit, well built, and really strong 
physically, as he was mentally. Caesar might have been 
a mighty wrestler, if he had not been a great general. 
Douglas, Franklin and Grant are illustrations in the same 
direction. Many men who have done great deeds, have 
been what the world would call small men, but, mark it, 
not one of them were dwarfs. The Tribune says : — " Now 
and then a large man, physically, proves himself capable 
of very small actions. This we shall see in this world, 
over and over again — but it always surprises us." 

But the small men, or rather the middle-sized men, have 
done the heavy jobs of this world. They are emphatically 
working men, while our two hundred and fifty or three 
hundred pounders have a lazy, lumbering way that gener- 
ally makes a man a little too late for the train, or perhaps 
finds him entirely unprepared for the work set before him. 

Washington, Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Benton, Jeffer- 
son, Lincoln and Monroe, were all tall, if not large men. 



80 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

But Madison, of our own country, like Pope, Dryden, 
Curran, Bobespierre and Marat, of the old world, were 
small, some of them very small, men. Dr. Watts was 
only five feet high. 



FAIENESS AND EIGHT. 

The usurer hangs the cozener. 
Through tattered clothes small vices do appear ; 
Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks ; 
Arm it in rags, and a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say, none, I'll able 'em ; 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes, 
And like a scurvy politician, seem 
To see the things thou dost not. — King Lear. 

So far as things appear on the surface, this picture is 
true enough. It is a fact beyond dispute, that wealth and 
influence do throw a sort of protection around sin, and 
many a rogue goes free, simply because he happens to 
have position and influence. But even then we find no 
argument in favor of roguery or injustice. The natural 
bias of all mankind is on the side of honor, fairness and, 
right — at least, so far as it refers to the conduct of those 
with whom they deal ; and though they may, under cer- 
tain circumstances, feel compelled to gloss over some 
man's bad character, or apologize for some man's wicked 
deeds, they inwardly abhor him after all, and they fail to 
accord to him that genuine esteem which, by the true 
man, is prized above all things. "My dear," said Sir 
Walter Scott to his son-in-law, Lockkart, "be virtuous, be 
religious — be a good man. Nothing else' will give you 
comfort when you come to be here." This was the testi- 
mony of a great man who, after a long life of labor and 
usefulness, had finally lain down to die ; and it is the 
testimony of all men, both good and bad, who have ever 
borne evidence on this point. We do not know of a sin- 
gle man who had lived a life of wickedness, that ever had 



THE STUDY OF MAN 81 

a word to say in favor of his career when it was ended. 
It does seem strange sometimes, we are ready to admit, 
that rascals should so often appear to prosper and rise. 
It does seem, occasionally, when we look at things out- 
wardly and casually, as if there were no God of justice, 
after all that has been said. Caesar fought for justice and 
the rights of the people, yet he was foully slain. Abra- 
ham Lincoln, as pure a patriot and as good a man as ever 
lived, was murdered by a maddened enthusiast. And so 
hundreds of men have died, while others infinitely worse 
have been suffered not only to live, but to go on and at- 
tain eminence. But it may be, and probably is, that God 
is just for all this. It may be that life is not always a 
blessing, and death not always a calamity. Perhaps the 
happiest event that ever happened to either Caesar or Lin- 
coln was their sudden taking away in the midst of their 
glory. Perhaps the worst thing that ever happened to 
other men is that they were condemned to live. Perhaps 
eminence is no proof of happiness, and apparent pros- 
perity no absolute evidence of good fortune. 

The difficulty of conduct, as Froude justly observes, 
does not lie in not knowing, but not willing what is right. 
It seldom occurs that a man is unable to decide what he 
ought to do. But it often happens that he debates long 
before deciding to do what he knows very well ought to> 
be done, in the premises. Perhaps it is as Euskin says,. 
that "very few people mean to do wrong — in a deep- 
sense, none. They only do not know what they are 
about. Cain did not mean to do wrong when he killed 
Abel."' Perhaps, we say, this is all true, but ivhether it is 
or is not, it is all the same to us. We cannot wait for 
people to think, and especially to think right when they 
do think. People must know what is right, and knowing, 
bear all the responsibility of their conduct. All excuses 
are poor excuses, and, as a general thing, not any better 
than no excuses at all. "The great difficulty," Euskin 
adds. •' is always to open people's eyes ; to touch their 



82 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

feelings and break their hearts is easy ; the difficult thing 
is to break their heads." 

But, finally, does dishonesty in any form ever pay ? It 
is so common in business, and is so often practiced, that it 
really seems to be profitable, and to afford some advan- 
tages which honesty itself could not supply. However 
this may be, it is our confident opinion that dishonesty 
and unfairness never pays, while on the other hand, hon- 
esty and fairness always pays. Dishonesty may afford 
some temporary advantages in some cases, but they are 
only temporary, and always recoil upon the perpetrator 
in the end. A man may make slight gains by light 
weights and short measure, but when the cheat is discov- 
ered, as it is certain to be eventually, he loses a customer 
forever. The men who have succeeded in building up a 
business upon a lasting foundation have been honest men, 
dealing justly with their customers uniformly, giving 
them fair measure and full counts, and keeping a faithful 
and true record of their dealings. That, we feel free to 
say, is the only kind of business that pays in the long run. 
And yet it is the kind that is not universally followed in 
this or in European countries. Swindling on a small 
scale, but practiced on a regular and systematic plan, is 
•common enough in all kinds of business and in all man- 
ner of trades. To quote Smiles, in his admirable work 
on "Duty": — "The spirit of the age is not that of a 
trader, but of a gambler. The pace is too fast to allow of 
any one stopping to inquire as to those who have fallen 
out by the way. They press on ; the race for wealth is 
for the swift. Their faith is in money." A Sacramento 
journal has given a still more important picture : — k 'Ameri- 
cans are a money -loving and money-making people. They 
have no queen or aristocracy to rule them ; their aristoc- 
racy is mone} r . The lust of wealth over-rides every other 
consideration. Fraud in trade is the rule, instead of the 
exception. We poison our provisions with adulteration. 
We even poison our drugs with cheaper materials. We 
sell shoddy for wool. We sell veneering for solid wood. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 83 

We build wretched sheds of bad brick, and bad mortar, 
and green wood, and call them houses. We rob and 
cheat each other all round, in every trade and business." 
People seem to forget not only that all bad work is lying, 
but all dishonest goods is swindling. But it requires 
courage to be honest, a great deal of courage to withstand 
the temptations and surmount the obstacles that come in 
the way. It is easy to be honest where there is nothing to 
hinder, or nothing to allure, but this, unfortunately, does 
not always happen to be the case. The most striking in- 
stance of real genuine honesty under difficulties is that 
related by Bernardin de Saint Pierre : A captain of 
dragoons was ordered out with his troop to forage for 
provisions. In doing so, they reached a poor cabin and 
knocked at the door. An old man with a white beard 
appeared. " Take me to a field," said the officer, " where 
I can forage for my troops." " Immediately, sir," was the 
reply of the old man. He put himself at their head, and 
ascended the valley. After about half an hour's march, 
a fine field of barley appeared. " This will do admira- 
bly," said the officer. "No," said the old man; "wait a 
little, and all will be right." They went on again until 
they reached another field of barley. The troops dis- 
mounted, mowed down the grain, and trussing it up in 
bundles, put them on the horses. "Friend," said the 
officer, " how is it that you have brought us so far? The 
first field of barley was quite as good as this." " That is 
quite true," said the peasant, "but it was not mine." 

The following is taken from a book that contains more 
true philosophy than any other book in the world : — 

'• To do justice and judgment is more acceptable to the 
Lord than sacrifice." 

" Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter. Fear 
God, and keep his commandments, for this is the whole 
duty of man." "God shall bring every work unto judg- 
ment with every secret thing, whether it be good, or 
whether it be evil." 



84 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

IMAGINATION AND ITS EFFECTS. 

Some men at times have very peculiar impressions. 
Thus, to quote the words of Colton, "there were mo- 
ments of despondency when Shakespeare thought himself 
no poet, and Raphael thought himself no painter; and 
moments when the greatest wits have doubted the excel- 
lence of their happiest efforts." 

Sometimes people have no impressions at all. "The 
oddest instance of absence of mind," says Sydney Smith, 
" happened to me once in forgetting my own name. I 
knocked at a door in London; asked, 'Is Mrs. B. at 
home?' 'Yes, sir; pray, what name shall I say?' I 
looked in the man's face astonished — what name ? what 
name ? — aye, that is the question. What is my name ? 
I believe the man thought me mad ; but it is literally true y 
that during the space of two or three minutes, I had no 
more idea who I was, than if I had never existed. I did 
not know whether I was a dissenter or a layman. I felt 
as dull as Sternhold and Hopkins. At last, to my great 
relief, it flashed across me that I was Sydney Smith." 
This often happens when we would introduce one person 
to another, but at the moment cannot possibly think of 
the name. No one knows better the good or ill effects of 
the imagination upon people than the practising physician. 
Faith in a remedy is often half the cure. The Arabs 
have a story that runs in this wise : — " One day a traveler 
met the Plague going into Cairo, and accosted it thus: 
'For what purpose are you entering Cairo?' 'To kill 
three thousand people,' answered the Plague. Some time 
after, the same traveler met the Plague on its return, and 
said, ' But you killed thirty thousand ! ' ' Nay,' answered 
the Plague ; ' I killed but three thousand — the rest died 
from fright.' " People who fix in their minds that they 
will die on a certain day, or at a certain hour, often verify 
their own prediction. In all these cases, the imagination 
must be held largely accountable for the result. Those 
who fancy themselves laboring under an affection of the 



THE BTUD7 OF MAX. S."> 

heart, are oot slow in verifying the apprehension; the un- 
easy and constant watching of its pulsations soon disturbs 
the circulation, and a malady may ensue beyond the 
power i>\' medicine Some physicians believe that in- 
flammation ran be induced in any part of the body by 
the patient's attention being continually directed toward 
it. 'Hie hypochondriac has been known to expire when 
forced to pass through a door which he fancied too narrow 
to admit his person. The story of the criminal who, un- 
conscious of the arrival of the reprieve, died under the 
stroke of a wet handkerchief, believing it to be the axe, 
is well known. Saracelsus held, "that there is in man an 
imagination which really brings to pass the things that did 
not before exist; for a man by imagination, willing to 
move his body, -moves it in fact, and by his imagination, 
he may also move another body." 

The following story is told of Chief Justice Holt : He 
had perceived that the innkeeper's daughter looked very 
ill, and on inquiring what was the matter, learned that she 
had the ague; when, passing himself off for a medical 
student, he said that he had an infallible cure for the com- 
plaint. He then collected a number of plants, mixed 
them up with various ceremonies, and enclosed them in 
parchment, on which he scrawled divers cabalistic charac- 
ters. When all was completed, he suspended the amulet 
round the neck of the young woman, and, strange to say, 
the ague left her and never returned. The landlord, grate- 
ful for the restoration of his daughter, not only declined 
receiving any payment from the youth, but pressed him 
to remain as long as he pleased. Many years after, 
when Holt was on the bench, a woman was brought be- 
foiv him, charged with witchcraft: she was accused of 
curing the ague by charms. All she said in defence was 
that she did p<>ss<'ss a ball which was a sovereign remedy 
in the complaint. The charm was produced and handed to 
the Judge, who recognized the very ball which he had him- 
self compounded in his boyish days, when, out of mere fun, 
he had assumed the character of a medical practitioner. 



86 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Quite extraordinary are the cures which are effected by 
some sudden agitation. An alarm of fire has been known 
to restore a patient entirely, or for a time, from a tedious 
illness ; 'it is no uncommon thing to hear of the victim of 
a severe fit of the gout, whose feet have been utterly 
powerless, running nimbly away from some approaching 
danger. Poor Grrimaldi, in his declining years, had almost 
quite lost the use of his limbs, owing to the most hopeless 
debility. As he sat one day at the bedside of his wife, 
who was ill, word was brought to him that a friend waited 
below to see him. He got down to the parlor with ex- 
treme difficulty. His friend was the bearer of heavy news 
which he dreaded to communicate ; it was the death of 
Grrimaldi's son, who, though reckless and worthless, was 
fondly loved by the poor father. The intelligence was 
broken as gently as such a sad event could be ; but in an 
instant, Grrimaldi sprang from his chair, his lassitude and 
debility was gone, his breathing, which had for a long 
time been difficult, became perfectly easy — he was hardly 
a moment in bounding up the stairs which, but a quarter 
of an hour before, he had passed with extreme difficulty 
in ten minutes ; he reached the bedside, and told his wife 
that their son was dead ; and as she burst into an agony 
of grief, he flung himself into a chair, and became instan- 
taneously, as it has been touchingiy described, "an en- 
feebled and crippled old man." 

On one occasion, Pascal had been thrown down on a 
bridge which had no parapet, and his imagination was so 
haunted forever after by the danger, that he always 
fancied himself on the brink of a steep precipice over- 
hanging an abyss ready to engulf him. This illusion had 
taken such possession of his mind, that the friends who 
came to converse with him were obliged to place the 
chairs on which they seated themselves, between him and 
the fancied danger. The effects of terror are the best 
known of all the vagaries of the imagination. 

A very remarkable case of the influence of imagination 
occurred between sixty and seventy years since, in Dub- 



THE STUDY OF MA». 87 

lin, connected with the celebrated frolics of Dalkej Island. 
It is said Cm-ran and his gay companions delighted to 
spend a day there, and that with them originated the 
frolic of electing "a King of Dalkey and the adjacent 
islands," and appointing his chancellor and all the officers 
of state. A man in the middle rank of life, universally 
respected, and remarkable alike for kindly and generous 
feelings and a convivial spirit, was unanimously elected to 
till the throne. He entered with' his whole heart into all 
the humors of the pastime, in which- the citizens of Dub- 
lin so long delighted. A journal was kept, called The 
Dalkey Gazette, in which all public proceedings were in- 
serted, and it afforded great amusement to its conductors. 
But the mock pageantry, the affected loyalty, and the pre- 
tended homage of his subjects, at length began to excite 
the imagination of "King John," as he was called. Fic- 
tion at length became with him reality, and he fancied 
himself "every inch a king." His family and friends 
perceived, with dismay and deep sorrow, the strange de- 
lusion which nothing could shake ; he would speak on no 
subject save the kingdom of Dalkey and its government, 
and he loved to dwell on the various projects he had in 
contemplation for the benefit of his people, and boasted 
of his high prerogative ; he never could conceive himself 
divested for one moment of his royal powers, and exacted 
the most profound deference to his kingly authority. The 
last year and a half of his life were spent in Swift's hos- 
pital for lunatics. He felt his last hours approaching, but 
no gleam of returning reason marked the parting scene ; 
to the very last instant, he believed himself a king, and 
all his cares and anxieties were for his people. 



LABOR 

What is wanted above all things, in the business of this 
world, is skilled workmen. There is plenty of labor to 
be obtained, but it is not the labor that the capitalist 



88 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

wants. What is demanded chiefly is experience and skill, 
added to industry and fidelity. "To be a good, black- 
smith," said General Trochu, " a man must have forged 
all his life." No man can be a thorough and successful 
workman, until he has had years of experience, and has 
made his business a study. 

But labor is not necessary for success alone. It is 
necessary, if we would have either health or happiness. 
Men must work to be healthful, and they most work to 
be happy. It is the tax that every man must pay before 
he can enjoy rest and sleep, or even the food which he 
eats. "I assure you," said Charles Lamb, '* no work at 
all is worse than overwork ; the mind preys on itself — the 
most unwholesome of food." 

Without work there .is no progress, and without pro- 
gress there can be no happiness. " I don't believe,'' says 
Lord Stanley, " that an unemployed man, however amia- 
ble and otherwise respectable, ever was, or ever can be, 
really happy. As work is our life, show me what you 
can do, and I will show you what you are. I have spoken 
of love of one's work as the best preventive of merely low 
and vicious tastes. I will go further and say that it is the 
best preservative against petty anxieties, and the annoy- 
ances that arise out of indulged self-love. You cannot 
escape from labor and anxiety — it is the destiny of 
humanity. Those who shirk from facing the trouble, find 
that trouble comes to them." 

There is no question but that aversion to honest toil is 
the cause of a large number of our worst crimes. The 
Chaplain of Horsemonger-lane Jail, in his annual report 
to the Surrey justices, makes this statement : " From my 
experience of predatory crime, founded upon a careful 
study of a great variety of prisoners, I conclude that 
habitual dishonesty is to be referred neither to ignorance, 
nor to drunkenness, nor to poverty, nor to temptation 
from surrounding wealth, nor, indeed, to any one of the 
indirect causes to which it is sometimes referred — but 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 89 

mainly to a disposition to acquire property with a less 
degree of labor than ordinary industry.'' 

" To struggle and again and again to renew the conflict 
— this is life's inheritance/' said Ary Scheffer. Very little 
that has ever been achieved, even by our greatest men, 
has been accomplished without very great labor. This is 
especially true of orators, poets and writers generally. 
The sheet of paper is still extant on which Ariosto wrote 
an octave, describing a tempest, in sixteen different ways, 
and it was the last which was preferred. Tasso formed 
rhymes with great difficulty, and what he accomplished 
was the result of prolonged study and great exertion. 
Addison wrote slowly and corrected unceasingly. Pope 
published nothing until it had been a year or two before 
him, and some of his manuscript was so full of alterations 
that his printer deemed it best to have it all written anew. 
Goldsmith considered four lines a good day's work, and 
was seven years in completing his " Deserted Village." 
The same hesitating and pains-taking methods characterize 
the literary work of Oliver Wendell Holmes. " Nothing 
great and durable," says Tom Moore. " has ever been 
produced with ease. Labor is the parent of all the lasting 
monuments of this world, whether in verse or in stone, in 
poetry or in pyramids." It took Virgil upwards of three 
years to compose his ten short "Eclogues," seven years to 
write his " Georgics." which comprise little more than two 
thousand lines, and upwards of twelve years to elaborate 
the " ^Eneid." which he was so far from regarding as com- 
plete that he attempted to rise from his death-bed to com- 
mit it to the flames. Thucydides was at least twenty 
years in inditing his great work, and that work is com- 
prised in an octavo volume. Demosthenes made no secret 
of the pains he expended in forging his thunderbolts 
against Philip and ^Eschines; Diodorus informs us that 
he was thirty years in composing his history : and so 
fastidious was Plato that the first sentence in the" Re- 
public "was turned into nine different forms before he 
could satisfy himself. Locke was no less than eighteen 



90 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

years over his essay. Tasso toiled like a galley slave at 
polishing his stanzas. The amount of toil expended by 
Sheridan on his comedies was almost incredible; eveiy 
joke, every epigram, was as carefully elaborated as a 
paragraph in Gibbon ; his easy, sparkling dialogue was 
"little better than mosaic work painfully dovetailed." 

"Noble work is the true educator. Idleness is a 
thorough demoralizer of bod}', soul and conscience. Nine- 
tenths of the vices and miseries of the world proceed from 
idleness. Without work there can be no active progress 
in human welfare." — Samuel Smiles in "Duty." Said the 
Rev. Canon Lidden: "The life of man is made up of 
action and endurance, and life is fruitful in the ratio in 
which it is laid out in noble action or in patient persever- 
ance. But the physical workers are not the only true 
workers. The lines of thought do not lie outside the 
division, for tine thought is undemonstrative action. To 
pass life in indolence, in a state of moral coma, is degrad- 
ing, for life is only ennobled by work." 

But the aversion of people for work, and the avidity 
with which they seize upon every opportunity to get along 
in the world without straight work, is wonderful. The 
world is filled with people who are looking for "soft 
jobs," men who are seeking for gratuities and sinecures. 
Dickens having stated in his preface to Nicholas Nickleby 
that the portraits of the Brothers Cheeryble were taken 
from life, and that they were still exercising their un- 
bounded benevolence, gives this as the result of this rash 
announcement: "If I were to attempt to sum up the 
hundreds upon hundreds of letters from all sorts of peo- 
ple, in all sorts of latitudes and climates, to which this 
unlucky paragraph has since given rise, I should get into 
an arithmetical difficulty, from which I could not easily 
extricate myself. Suffice it to say that I believe the 
applications for loans, gifts and offices of profit that I 
have been requested to forward to the originals of the 
Brothers Cheerj^ble (with whom I never interchanged any 
communication in my life) would have exhausted the 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 91 

combined patronage of all the Lord Chancellors since the 
accession of the house of Brunswick, and would have 
broken the rest of the Bank of England." 



SELECT SENTIMENTS. 

A man who has genius, generally has little else. 

An ounce weight ca^ lift a ton, if we only give it lever 

enough. 

What we call things, is often as important as what things 
really are. 

Any man can be a fool without effort, but to be sensi- 
ble at all times is no easy matter. 

Kindness injudiciously applied often does more harm 
than the assaults of our worst enemies. 

Too many are ready to bargain with the Devil one day, 
if he will only serve their cause some other. 

Men triumph as often by the follies and weaknesses of 
their adversaries, as by their own wisdom and strength. 

We generally fear those we hate, and hate those we 
fear. We never either fear or hate those whom we 
despise. 

"Sad is the lot of inventors, and sad it must generally 
be, for the man who has ideas seldom has much talent 
for business." 

Nothing unites and binds men together so strongly as 
common misfortune and common suffering — unless it be 
common interests. 

"Be just, and fear not," — in other words, do not be 
afraid. Timi dity and cowardice often -create dangers, where • 
originally none existed. 

The evidence that will hang a man in this country,, 
would not, in ordinary cases, be deemed sufficient to prove: 
even a debt of ten dollars. 



92 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

J low often, especially in politics, does the traitor, or 
apostate, succeed in advancing his interests through the 
medium of his own apostacy ! 

"Ridicule is more powerful than argument, and what 
cannot be answered, can sometimes be made ridicu- 
lous.' 1 — Calamities of Authors. 

All men hate liars, for the same reason that they hate 
robbers and murderers — chiefly because they are danger- 
ous and unpleasant members of society. 

If anything ought to be done, go and do it. Do not 
hesitate or meditate till the opportunity is gone. The 
sole question is, whether it ought to be done. 

Do not despair. There is no man in the whole world 
who is better, or is really worth more to community, 
than you may be yourself, if you will only try. 

u Kissing goes by favor " — indeed, it does. And it 
clearly is true that a man's conceived policy, or his preju- 
dice, has a great deal to do with his likes and preferences. 

Even deformities may become fashionable. There is a 
town in South America where goitres are so common that 
a man who does not have one is looked upon as a 
curiosity. 

It is an unpleasant, if not an unfortunate thing, for a 
man to be either ahead of or behind his times. If he is be- 
hind, he is laughed at ; if he is ahead, he is either feared 
or detested. 

People think less of us, and really care less for us, 
.-generally, than we imagine they do. But then we cannot 
^always tell. Sometimes people think of us when we 
little expect it. 

It is well to talk — but those who have tried it, have 
found that talk is one thing, and practice another. It is 
easier, and more pleasant, to make precepts than to follow 
them, or to lay plans than to execute them. 

Things not needed are not cheap at any price, unless 
they can be sold readily for what they cost. But this 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 93 

rarely happens, for it is not easy to find customers for 
things to which we may have taken a fancy. 

It is arguments that move men, — at least, men in their 
sane and sensible moods, — and the man who presents the 
best arguments, if fairly and fully understood, is the one 
who wins his case, or succeeds in his enterprise. 

No matter how much worth or merit a thing may have, 
its reception by the public all depends upon how it is pre- 
sented, or whether it is presented at all. There is such a 
thing as advertising that cannot safely be dispensed with. 

As politics stands at present, the chief weapon in parti- 
san warfare is lying. The business of partisans is to 
make their enemies appear odious, and they find a lie, 
well believed, just as efficacious as the truth itself. 

Never be in a hurry to give up. To quote the words 
of Samuel J. Tilden, " You can always surrender. That 
is all you have to do after being beaten. Why surrender 
before the battle, for fear of having to surrender after tne 
battle is over?" 

All compromise is patch-work, serving at best only a 
temporary purpose, and, as very often happens, is produc- 
tive of very great ills. When two antagonists compro- 
mise, neither is satisfied. It is better either to fight the 
matter out, or yield entirely. 

To be lenient is sometimes well, but not always. In 
dealings with a man's enemies or opposers, leniency is 
generally damaging and dangerous. Firmness and de- 
cision, coupled with fairness and frankness, is the best 
thing in dealing with men at all times. 

It is a very comfortable and convenient thing to have 
power. If a man has that, he can do as he pleases, no mat- 
ter whether he is right or wrong, or whether his course is 
agreeable to others or not. So the people had the power, 
and they found Captain Kidd guilty of piracy, but they 
did not, and could not, prove the guilt of the man. How- 
ever, they hung him just the same. 



94 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

There certainly are impossibilities. Even God cannot 
make black white, wrong right, or a fool a wise man. He 
cannot even extinguish evil — at least, he never has. 
Satan has had a hard time of it for some centuries, but 
still it seems impossible to have him annihilated. After 
all the opposition he meets with, and all the hard things 
said of him daily, he still manages to get around about 
as usual. 

The great question after all in this world is not what a 
man knows, but what can he do ? It is surprising to see 
how much a man may know, and still not know anything ; 
or in other words, how wise and apt he may be in some 
respects, and how ignorant and imbecile in others. 

It seems strange that so much should be given for a 
painted landscape, when one of nature's best can be seen 
in the original without fee and without price. "When a 
man was asked to go and hear one who could sing like a 
nightingale, he declined, saying he had heard the nightin- 
gale itself. 

We might as well talk Greek or Hebrew to an ignorant 
countryman, as to discourse to any man on subjects upon 
which he has never thought ; or, what is the same thing, 
attempt to give him ideas that he has never had before. 
We may give him facts, but the principles which underlie 
the facts must be understood by him in the first place. 
The moment we begin to talk to a man upon something 
he knows nothing about, we shall find ourselves con- 
stantly using terms that he fails to understand. Every 
thought that a man has, takes its birth in some antecedent 
thought that was in his mind before. 

People sometimes are not so inconsistent as they seem. 
They find a reason, and sometimes a very good reason, for 
doing things that to us appear very unreasonable. When 
people seem to be inconsistent with their past life, they 
are oftenfmerely acting differently under very different 
conditions. Some new element enters the case, some new 
impulse urges them, some new danger deters, or some new 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 95 

delight allures them. This will explain many things in 
human nature that to outsiders, unacquainted with the 
facts, appear strange and unaccountable. 

People should be very careful what they affirm, or 
what they promise, for it is not an easy matter always for 
them to make good what they say. Yet no man willingly 
confesses that he is mistaken, and he strives hard either to 
substantiate what he has asserted, or to bring about per- 
haps the evil he has prophesied. If people were more 
careful in their assertions, they would not so often find 
themselves embarrassed with their mistakes. And if they 
were more cautious in their pledges, and more prompt in 
performance, it would be far better for all parties con- 
cerned. 

His promises were, as he was then, mighty, 
But his performance, as he is now, nothing. 

— King Henry VIII. 

A man is a very good fellow, he is a patriot, he is a 
Christian, he is a gentleman, he is even a saint, if he will 
sacrifice his ease, his interests, his property, his privileges, 
or his life, for our salvation. When it is all sifted down, 
our estimate of men is founded principally upon what 
they can and will do for us, or the race. That is the pre- 
vailing idea of virtue, nobleness and goodness, at the 
present day. We love Christ, because he died that we 
might be s,aved. So above all the men that we esteem 
.and honor is the good soldier who goes to war and risks 
his life, in order that we may remain at home and enjoy 
ourselves in safety, comfort and peace. 



TALK. 

" Say little, hear much, and speak ill of no one," is the 
admonition of Cleobulus. What people say is more apt 
to get them into trouble than what they do. There is a 
risk in everything a man utters, and prudence dictates 
that he should not open his mouth any oftener than is 



96 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

necessary. There are so many foolish words, harsh words, 
false words, wicked words, unhappy words, that slip from 
the tongue before a person thinks ! How much better it 
had been if they had never been uttered ! 

When a man succeeds in bridling his own tongue, he 
has achieved for himself one of his greatest victories. 
Carlysle has it that "he that cannot withal keep his mind 
to himself, cannot practice any considerable thing what- 
soever." Or, as Lacordaire has it, " After speech, silence 
is the greatest power in the world." 

What a terrible power there is in words; what mo- 
mentous results they often produce, and that when least 
expected ! " The turn of a sentence has decided the fate 
of many a friendship, and for aught we know, the fate of 
many a kingdom." — Bentham. Witty words are delight- 
ful as spice in conversation, but they are dangerous weap- 
ons, and sarcastic words are still more so. It is said of 
Burns, that for every ten jokes, he made himself a hun- 
dred enemies. But, on the other hand, to quote the words 
of Grirardin, "A well-chosen word has often sufficed to 
stop a flying army, to change defeat into victory, and to 
save an empire." 

It is far from being advisable for us always to say what 
we think, or what we feel, for it is more than possible that 
at no distant time we may look at things very differently 
from what Ave do now. Our indignation, for instance, 
may be found to be unnecessarily aroused, or our resent- 
ment may have arisen from an entire misapprehension of 
facts. Little things that seem wrong may generally better 
be passed by unnoticed. To discuss matters of difference 
almost always magnifies them. No one likes to be 
brought to account for any impropriety, no matter how 
just may be the complaint. Again, people must be care- 
ful not to tell all they think. God never intended they 
should. The most of our thoughts are never to be ut- 
tered. If we should tell even our friends the half Ave 
think, we would soon have no Mends left. 

People cannot be too careful not only what they say, 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 97 

but how they say it. The manner has often more to do 
with success than the matter, as dress is often more im- 
portant than the being it adorns. To Carlyle's odd style 
we must ascribe the fact that he was never understood. 
It was not the depth or peculiarity of his thought so 
much as his eccentric manner of expression. 

But people can talk too little as well as too much, for 
there are extremes here as in other things. Whenever it 
is proper or necessary to let people know what we think, 
we should always be ready to assume the responsibility. 
Those with whom we associate can only know with cer- 
tainty what Ave think, or how Ave feel, when our thoughts 
and feelings are plainly and fully expressed in words. It 
is hard deciding Avkat a man thinks or Avhat he wishes by 
simply looking into his face. We can indeed form some 
general notion of his impressions by obseiwing his counte- 
nance, but it is no safe Avay for arriving at definite con- 
clusions. 

We admire those most who, like Caius Marius, are 
neither gwen themselves to talking, nor are much talked 
about in the Avorlcl. Those Avho say little, usually do 
most, and the}/ Avho are loudest in their threats are sloAvest 
in executing them. " To say little and perform much, is 
the characteristic of a great mind." But the quantity of 
loose, idle and nonsensical talk, as life goes, is simply im- 
mense. Most people Avill talk, even when they say 
nothing. And then, too, they are so fond of asking 
questions ! A lady visiting the British Museum, said to 
one of the librarians, " Pray, sir, haven't you a skull of 
Oliver Cromwell here?" "No, madam," replied the man 
of books, "Ave have not." "Dear me," said she, "I avoii- 
der at that, for they have a real nice one in the museum 
at Oxford." Fuseli had a disgust for all such people. 
We read of him that after sitting perfectly silent for a 
long time, in his OAvn room, during the " bald, disjointed 
chat" of some idle callers-in, Avho Avere gabbling about 
the Aveather, and things equally interesting, he suddenly 
exclaimed, " We had pork for dinner to-day !" " Dear 



98 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Mr. Fuseli," said one of the ladies present, "what an odd 
remark that is!" "Undoubtedly so," said Mr. Fuseli; 
" but it is as good as anything I have heard here for the 
last thirty minutes." And, finally, we must mention the 
careless, blundering, blustering talkers, who are always 
speaking what first comes in their minds. When Queen 
Elizabeth, in one of her progresses, for which she was 
famous, soon after the defeat of the Spanish Armada, 
visited Shrewsbury, the Mayor, in congratulating her on 
the memorable event, said : — " When the King of Spain 
attacked your majesty, egad, he took the wrong sow by the 
ears!" And he did not better matters, when, a little 
afterward, he begged permission to attend Her Majesty 
to the gallows, which happened to be a mile out of town. 
The fact was, he, like thousands of others, never thought 
before he spoke. Mr. Imlach, Minister of the Muirhouse, 
was* one of the same class. In his prayer one day, he 
said, among other things, " Lord, bless all ranks and 
degrees of persons, from the king on the dunghill, to the 
beggar on the throne !" He finally corrected himself by 
saying, " I mean, from the beggar on the throne, to the 
king on the dunghill." Such was the solicitude of Peri- 
cles, when he had occasion to speak in public, he always 
first addressed a prayer to the gods "that not a word 
might unawares escape him unsuitable to the occasion." 

Many a man has made the mistake of talking in the 
wrong place, or perhaps has spoken when he ought not to 
have talked at all. It is said that Louis Napoleon, before 
he was elected President, at one time by attempting to 
make a speech, and absolutely failing in the effort, dam- 
aged his cause more than by all the follies of his past life. 
The feeling produced for him by the failure was one of 
contempt. But the case of Prince Napoleon was de- 
cidedly the opposite. By a speech which he made in the 
Senate, in 1861, he came suddenly into very favorable 
notice. His splendid eloquence and powerful defence of 
the liberties of the people took the world by surprise. 
"If some actor," says one writer, "who had played the 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 99 

part of clown for years, had suddenly leaped into fame in 
one night as the greatest tragic actor of his time, the 
effect could not be more startling than the revolution 
which converted the clown of the Palais Eoyal into one 
of the greatest orators of France." 

There are too many persons who do not know when to 
begin, in talking, nor when to stop. "Incessant talkers," 
as has been said by Lord Chesterfield, "make very dis- 
agreeable companions." The truth is, there are few per- 
sons so original in their ideas, or so entertaining in their 
remarks, that we do not soon tire of their conversation. 
When we are thus borne along by the ardor of our feel- 
ings, and are urged forward by the pressure of our ideas 
to engross the attention of the company, let us remember 
that there are, no doubt, many about us who have 
thoughts as precious to themselves, and views which they 
are as anxious to publish, as any that delight us. It is 
never pleasing to us to see people too forward. We are 
never willing to see men make a display of their wit or 
their achievements. Nothing delights us so much as 
modesty and reserve. 

"The world is nothing but babble," somebody says, 
"and I never yet have seen that man who did not rather 
prate too much than talk too little." The world is full of 
little talkers, those who have many words and few 
thoughts ; they are among the most pitiable creatures in 
the world. A person may be held excusable for not 
knowing anything ; or, in the words of Horace Greeley, 
he is not bound to use common sense if he has not got it. 
Megabysus once went to see Apelles in his painting room. 
He stood a great while without saying a word, but at 
length he began to discourse of painting and of pictures 
in the room. Apelles was surprised, and he was forced to 
remark : — " Whilst thou wast silent, thou seemest to me 
something great, by reason of thy chains and pomp, but 
now that we have heard thee speak, there is not the mean- 
est boy in the shop that does not despise thee." "What 
shall I say, General, when I get home," inquired a Texas 



100 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

editor of General Grant, when lie wished to sound him on 
the great issues of the day and ascertain his position ; 
"what shall I say. General, on the matter of the presi- 
dency?" "Say nothing," replied the General. Very 
many men have made themselves eminent by knowing 
how to keep silent. The great talent of Lonis Napoleon, 
says Hugo, is silence. 

We are apt to talk of matters which we know nothing 
about, and in which we have no real concern. We de- 
light to give advice, often before it is asked, and some- 
times before it is wanted. We are pleased to exhibit our 
own opinions, and we like to point out the mistakes 
which others have made. It gratifies our yanity and 
strengthens our conceit, to feel that we know more than 
other people, and can tell them things which perhaps they 
never have heard before. But we must remember that 
other people have vanity and conceit as well as ourselves, 
and that what gratifies us may not be so agreeable to 
them. The Greeks remind us that we have two ears and 
but one mouth, that we may hear the more and say the 
less. But there are yet too many who are like Goldsmith, 
of whom Johnson says : — " Rather than not talk, he will 
talk of what he knows himself to be ignorant, which can 
only end in exposing him ; if in company with two foun- 
ders, he would fall a talking on the method of making- 
cannon, though both of them would soon see that he did 
not know what metal a cannon was made of." 

"What you say, of what man, and to whom you say 
it," says Horace, "have a care," Kossuth's great maxim 
w*s : — "Never say more than is necessary ; the unspoken 
word never does harm; what is once uttered cannot be 
recalled, and no man can foresee its consequences." But 
many people talk at random, just as they would fire a 
loaded gun into the street, not caring whom they hit or 
whom they hurt. If there is not almost an absolute cer- 
tainty that no one present can take offence at what we 
say, we had better leave it unsaid. We will often find 
that people have tender points that we had not expected, 



THE STUDY OF MAN 101 

and a word let fall by chance may wound them seriously. 
They will be apt to consider as preconcerted what was 
really with us accidental. An unlucky word has lost 
many a friend. Every assault upon a class will pass for 
an assault upon every one of its individuals. If we at- 
tack the English as a people, we attack every English- 
man in the realm. What we say to the reproach of a 
man's party or sect, is so much, as he takes it, said to the 
reproach of himself. "When we consider how much easier 
it is to prevent disease than to cure it. Ave shall realize the 
importance of always "bridling our tongue/' We agree 
with Chilo, that 'tis the greatest mark of wisdom to re- 
strain the tongue: or, as the good book says. "A fool 
uttereth all his mind, but a wise man keepeth it in till 
afterwards." 

One of the safest rules which can be laid down for our 
guidance in conversation is this, that ive should never say 
what we should fear to have repeated. But this is not 
all : the probabilities are not only that what we say will 
be repeated, but with none of the extenuating circum- 
stances to be taken in connection with the remark. The 
tone in which we said it, the qualifications that accom- 
panied it, the motives that urged it. we may feel assured 
will not be represented. This is even the best side of the 
picture. A worse side is this : the one who reports may 
magnify or mutilate, he may not even thoroughly com- 
prehend us. he may fail to remember correctly : it 
may besides have passed through various hands, receiving 
the usual embellishment each time. The fate of an un- 
lucky word and its consequences, who shall calculate with 
certainty ? Shakespeare's advice is worth remembering : 
very man thine ear, and few thy voice. 

We have Bacon's authority for saying that " speech of 
one's self ought to be seldom and well chosen." "Talk- 
ing of yourself." says Chesterfield, "is an impertinence to 
the company ; your affairs are nothing to them, besides 
they cannot be kept too secret. And as to the affairs of 
others, what are they to you?" If people talk of their 



102 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

weaknesses and their misfortunes to us, we consider them 
foolish ; if they talk of what they would like to have us 
jDraise or admire, we consider them vain. There is 
scarcely any form in which a man can make himself the 
subject of conversation and not annoy or disgust us. 

We will notice briefly conversation as an art. Nothing 
so much tends to make our presence agreeable, and 
nothing so strengthens our claim upon the esteem of 
mankind, as pleasing speech. One who can speak fluently 
and agreeably, one who can speak sensibly and appropri- 
ately, one who can entertain us with what we delight to 
hear, enters largely into our sympathies and possesses a 
powerful charm over our heart. Many men have owed 
much of their eminence to their conversational ability. 
Edmund Burke was unequaled in this department. No 
one, it has been said, had a finer flow of language or a 
more constant novelty of thought. So Napoleon in con- 
versation was inimitable. Perhaps we may say that a 
large majority of our successful men have been distin- 
guished for their conversational powers. Fair speech has 
a greater charm on the heart than even music itself. And 
yet it is a fact that many great men, especially writers, 
were not great conversationalists. Yirgil was heavy in 
conversation ; Descartes was usually silent in company ; 
Addison was no talker among strangers ; Milton was un- 
sociable. 



MADNESS AND MADMEN. 

It has never yet been settled what madness is, and what 
is not madness — and it probably never will be settled. It 
is hard to ascertain just where mania ends, and where ec- 
centricity begins. We have crazy men and crazy women, 
and men and women whose sanity or insanity, it is not 
possible to determine. One fact, however, is perfectly 
clear — that the number of those who might properly be 
called insane is greater than is commonly supposed ; or, to 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 103 

put it in another form, crazy folks are not so easily dis- 
tinguished from other folks as we sometimes imagine. All 
genius partakes more or less of madness; both are irregu- 
lar, both abnormal. A genius is a man out of the ordi- 
nary line ; in a certain sense, he is a man out of his mind. 
All inventors and one-idea men are strikingly mono- 
maniacs, and the world finds it often difficult to decide 
whether a man is really shattered, or merely has an extra- 
ordinary development of brain. John Eandolph was 
always eccentric, and crazy at least half the time. Yet he 
was possessed of a mind of uncommon brilliancy. Dante 
was pronounced by Yoltaire and others a madman. Ed- 
gar Allen Poe could hardly be classed with men who are 
unquestionably sound. Arnold was considered out of 
his head at Saratoga, and General Sherman, when he, in 
the early days of our late war, declared that it would take 
five hundred thousand men to put down the rebellion, 
was supposed by his nearest friends to be troubled with 
something akin to softening of the brain. Suwarrow, the 
greatest of Eussian generals, and a man of much breadth 
and keenness of intellect, behaved generally with such 
oddity and absurdity of manner, that it was often hard to 
decide which rather to call him, a madman or a fool. 
Charles XII was decidedly a madman, and yet he played 
a great part in the history of this world for many years. 
His wildest undertakings were generally crowned with 
astonishing success. Fitch, the inventor, was considered 
a lunatic. "It is strange," says Moliere, "that all great 
men should have some little grain of madness mingled 
with whatever genrus they possess." And Montaigne re- 
marks: — "Is it not a great boldness in philosophy to 
believe that men perform the greatest actions, and nearest 
approaching divinity, when they are furious mad and be- 
side themselves ?" In another place he says : — " Women, 
children and madmen have had the fortune to govern 
great kingdoms equally well with the wisest princes ; and 
Thucydides says that the stupid more frequently do it 
than those of better understandings." 



104 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

The world is full of people crazy on some subjects — 
some on religion, some on inventions, some on property, 
some on children, some on dogs, some on dolls, and some 
on other things. The great Sam Johnson had many of 
the freaks of a madman. If he took it into his head to 
pray in a room full of company, he would kneel down 
behind a chair, go over the Lord's Prayer with great dis- 
patch, and then get up as if nothing had happened. 
General Jackson, in the last years of his administration, 
was so affected hj bad temper and disease that his con- 
duct often partook of insanity. He imagined there was a 
conspiracy to assassinate him, and he saw signs and ap- 
pearances not as sound men see them. 

The world 'abounds in delusions; not the young alone, 
with their waking dreams and unrestrained imaginations, 
but the old and the middle-aged, all have their fancies, 
freaks and whims. Every unfounded belief is a delusion, 
we know, and yet unfounded beliefs, we must confess, are 
remarkably common. What delusion could be greater 
than that which most intelligent people were possessed of, 
not long since, on the subject of demonology and witch- 
craft ? Or, what delusion could be more unfounded and 
irregular than that of the people who believe literally the 
allegories and fictions of the Bible ? But, if delusion or 
folly is a test of insanity, who of us is not insane ? 

"Men pair off in insane parties," says Emerson. It is 
no uncommon thing to see communities and peoples run 
mad. People were mad when John Law set his South 
Sea scheme before them. People were unquestionably 
crazy then ; they had been crazy oftentimes before that, 
and as often since. Every panic is only a manifestation 
of madness in some form. The middle ages may be set 
down as a complete age of madness. The whole civilized 
world was then spiritually mad. It believed in Witches, 
Ghosts, Devils, Demons and Dragons then, as we believe 
in our Angels and Cherubs now. The mind of the whole 
people was, at that time, diseased. 

A fair type of delusions as they are often seen to work 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 105 

in masses is to be found in the Netherlandish iconoclasm 
of the sixteenth century. The account is thus given: — 
It was on the 11th of August. 1566, in the province of 
West Flanders, in the vicinity of St. Omer, the fanaticism 
first broke forth. It seemed unpremeditated and spon- 
taneous. As suddenly as a summer hurricane, it came 
and it went. Crosses and images by the wayside were 
first destroyed : then churches and convents were broken 
into ; altars overturned ; images broken in pieces and 
trampled under foot. The wild epidemic swept on ; town 
after town was visited by the destructive contagion. All 
Flanders was given over to the iconoclasts. In Tourney, 
churches were despoiled in sight of the garrison, yet the 
troops refused to march against the rioters. Zealand, 
Utrecht, and many places in Groningen, suffered from the 
same universal and devastating fury. Lovers of art will 
never cease to regret the despoiling of the great cathedral 
at Antwerp. Before the sun arose, thirty churches, be- 
sides convents and nunneries, were sacked within the city 
walls. From all accounts, this wreck was the work of a 
troop not exceeding a hundred, while thousands stood as 
spectators, indifferent or terror-struck. In the single 
province of Flanders, four hundred churches were de- 
molished. The authorities were stupirled with wonder, 
and it was not until all the damage possible in Antwerp 
and surrounding towns had been done, that order was re- 
stored. The loss inflicted upon art, history and diplomacy 
is beyond estimate. The fury of the Huguenot iconoclast 
was against stock and stone only. No insult or injury 
was offered to man or woman. Neither was plunder their 
aim. Great heaps of silver, gold and precious jewelry 
were trampled under foot. In Valenciennes, a large sum 
of money was offered to dissuade them from desecrating 
the churches, which was refused with disdain. Motley 
says : — " Art was trampled in the dust, but humanity de- 
plores no victims." 



106 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

» 

THE MATTER OF EDUCATION. 

Men are continually vibrating between extremes of 
thought They never arrive at any fixed purpose, or 
any settled conviction, and remain there. They are here 
to-day, and there to-morrow, being really satisfied and 
contented in no place. All this is strongly exemplified in 
the prevailing notions in regard to education For a long- 
time the opinion has been current with the masses that 
through the high school or college runs the only sure 
road to greatness. There has been, and is still, a quiet 
conviction that a certain amount of book knowledge, and 
a certain share of instruction by some eminent teacher, is 
sure to revive the dull scholar, and convert even a stupid 
dunce into a bright and promising student, Nay, people 
have gone farther. They believe that a person must be 
educated in order to be happy ; he must be cultured, if 
he would shine in society, and -he must understand what 
is contained in the books, if he would pass for a civilized 
and intelligent gentleman. They believe that in educa- 
tion lies the foundation of virtue, and in ignorance the 
chief source of crime. If men could be educated up to 
a certain imaginary standard, they conceive that they 
would be incapable of doing wrong, and, at least, would 
hold vice in abhorrence. 

But these theories are not so prevalent as they were. 
Men are opening their eyes, and, in the new light that 
surrounds them, things appear different from what they 
did formerly. They find that while education can do 
much, it cannot do everything ; they find that no matter 
what some other kind of education might do, the educa- 
tion that we have now does not make men materially 
wiser, or happier, or better than they were ; they find that 
while education is increasing, wickedness and crime in- 
creases also ; they find that our towns and cities are filled 
with learned sneaks, as well as educated robbers and ras- 
cals ; they find everywhere educated idiots, those unfortu- 
nate creatures who- have learned everything from the 



THE STUDY OF MAIN. 107 

books but that one thing most important of all — how to 
get an honest living ; they find that education developes 
conceit and enlarges pride, that it adds nothing to talent, 
and can never supply the place of either capacity or 
genius. 

We do not think that education of any kind, upon any 
plan or under any system, could do the wonderful things 
that have been expected and claimed for popular educa- 
tion during the last fifty years. There are certain traits 
of character that are born in men, which no amount of 
teaching or training can ever work out of them. There 
is such a thing as inheritance that sets the powers of all 
discipline and instruction at defiance. But it seems to us 
that almost any system of education might do better for 
mankind than that which we have had. How could it 
possibly have done much less than it has ? It has simply 
crammed the mind with a certain number and variety of 
facts, with but little regard for the importance or value of 
those facts. It has cultivated the intellect, but provided 
no means for using that instrument. It has gone on dis- 
cussing and philosophizing, but it has paid little heed to 
what the learner should do, and it has given but little at- 
tention to that which is before him to be done. It deals 
chiefly in formulas and theories, and leaves facts and sub- 
stantial things to the dogs. What the world needs is men 
who are willing to work; but what educated men de- 
sire is easy places, where little or no hard labor is expected, 
and where the intervals of rest are numerous and long. 

It is clear that education, to be true education, must be 
able to do something more than accumulate and transfer a 
certain number of facts. Discipline is worth more than 
instruction. It is necessary to have both, but if there can 
be but one, let it be discipline. The heart needs more at- 
tention than the brain, in all our teaching. The body is 
worth more than the mind, for without the body there 
would be no mind. The useful is always more valuable 
than the ornamental, and good instruction is always better 
than simple culture. True education will not stop with 



108 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

mere smartness. How to succeed, how to be useful, how 
to be happy, how to perform the duties of a true and noble 
man, are not subjects that are usually considered in 
schools, but they are of prime importance to the race, 
and no teacher properly fulfills his mission who either 
slights or ignores them. 

It is a serious error to suppose that our education is ob- 
tained exclusively in school, and that hence when school 
days are ended our education is finished. Schools give us 
only the elements and the foundation of a practical edu- 
cation ; the structure reared upon this foundation must be 
formed of materials obtained elsewhere. Yery many of 
our eminent and most successful men scarcely ever en- 
tered a school-room as pupils ; but it does not follow from 
this that they were uneducated men. On the contrary, 
they were men of extensive knowledge and thorough 
mental training, men who read much and reflected more, 
men of active minds and accurate observation, men deeply 
learned in all the lessons of the heart, and in all that ren- 
ders man successful in life. 

When a young man leaves school, he is just prepared 
to make himself a successful and earnest student. He is 
then prepared to observe the things that are around him, 
and is able to learn from his observations. We must 
learn to go through this world with our eyes open, and to 
pass nothing of importance by without attention and in- 
quiry. A portion of our education is to be got from the 
books we read, but much more from our contact with 
things about us. "Whoever goes in quest of knowledge, 
let him fish for it where it is to be found." — Montaigne. 

Travel is an invaluable means of adding to our store of 
knowledge. A person who remains in one town all his 
life, who has seen nothing of nature's various scenery and 
remarkable productions, who has known human nature 
only as it developes itself in the narrow circle of his own 
neighborhood, can, under no conditions, consider himself 
a learned man. Books and pictures and maps are good, 
but travel is immenselv better. We must see with our 



I 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 109 

own eyes and examine for ourselves, if we wonld under- 
stand and remember. Every young man should travel, 
if he may. He should extend his acquaintance with 
nature in every direction, and with men also, as far and as 
rapidly as possible. 

A wise man, or one who has been properly educated, 
will learn of every new thing which meets his observa- 
tion. Everything presents nature in some new and in- 
structive form ; every tree, and plant, even the stones of 
the earth, have their lessons for us to learn. Cato has 
truthfully said : — " Wise men learn more of fools than 
fools do from the wise." The way to become wise is to 
observe and inquire — and we know of no better way to 
gain useful and reliable information. 

"I learn yet," says Helvetius ; " my instruction is not 
yet ended. When shall it be ? When I shall no more be 
susceptible of it, at my death. The course of my life is 
properly only a long education." Pascal tells us that 
"the parts of the world have all such a relation, and such 
an enchaining one to another, that I believe it impossible 
to know one without the other, and without the whole." 
It is impossible to know the whole, without knowing in 
detail the parts. 

"A man of the world," says one writer, " one who col- 
lects his knowledge from his own experience and observa- 
tion, is seldom wrong; he is well acquainted with the 
operations of the human mind, pries into the heart of 
man, reads his words before they are uttered, sees his 
actions before they are performed, knows what will please 
and what displease, and foresees the event of most things." 
Another tells us that all our knowledge of books, our 
proficiency in the arts and sciences, our knowledge of 
history, of languages and mathematics, will be worth very 
little to us, if we do not also know the world, its habits, 
its wants, its characteristics. 

Education is important ; it is an instrument, a polish,' a 
power. But do not despair if you do not succeed in get- 
ting the amount of book-knowledge which you desire. 



110 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Many men have succeeded without its advantages. Ful- 
ton had but the rudiments of a common-school educa- 
tion. Descartes, the greatest of French philosophers, read 
little and had but few books. John Adams, by far the 
most learned of all our presidents, must be remembered 
as among the most unpopular and unsuccessful ones. 
"A mere bookish learning," says Montaigne, "is a poor 
stock to go upon ; though it may serve for some kind of 
ornament, there is yet no foundation for any superstruc- 
ture to be built upon it." Education is good, it is a 
means to be used for an end, but it cannot do its work 
alone. 



EEASON AND UNKEASON 

Men are assumed to be reasoning creatures; but the 
course of their lives can hardly justify the claim in any 
extensive or general sense. Eeflection partakes too much 
of the nature of labor ; it requires effort, and men seldom 
make effort unless necessity compels them. It is so much 
easier to drift along with the current than it is to stretch 
out the arm and strike for the shore ! Men deliberate but 
little ; it is so much easier to imitate. They do not like 
to strike out new paths in unknown fields ; it is more in 
unison with their nature to follow the lead of those who 
have explored the ground before them. 

So far from our being in any true sense uniformly 
reasoning creatures, we are, save in exceptional cases, 
creatures merely of fashion, of prejudice, of whims, of 
feeling, of impulse, of habit. In the wgrds of Nicolai: 
"Few persons reason; the most part embrace their 
opinions by the proneness of their hearts, and by a con- 
fused sight, which is no other thing than fancy." 

How few men are capable of carrying on a process of 
reasoning, considering facts that really bear upon the 
question and tracing them to their logical result ! Ninety- 
nine hundredths of all the men in this world, rather than 



THE STUDY OF MAN. Ill 

reason themselves, would prefer to take up and carry out 
the thought of some sturdier and more resolute man. 
This is especially so in America. People have so much 
work to do, they have no time for reflection and inquiry. 
They are continually jumping at conclusions. A mere 
word sometimes suffices to carry them away. They never 
look upon more than one side of a question, and rarely 
consider more than a small portion of that. They will 
not take the trouble to think, and as a consequence that 
part of this world's most important business is done by a 
very few men. The demagogue and the philosopher both 
impress the world with their theories, and men, like so 
many children, simply go on and write these things down 
in their diaries. 

The absence of reason in our dealings with our fellow 
creatures is strikingly noticeable. Thus, we find men 
prejudiced against some person or some measure, and to 
ask them the reason, would be as silly as to ask why ice 
is cold or grass green. We are all of us deeply imbued 
with prejudices and whims. We form conclusions and 
derive impressions often from the slightest causes, and 
sometimes without any foundation whatever. We 
imagine and believe at one time what at another we would 
laugh at or discard. He that sees bears in stumps and in 
shadows ghosts, will see things stranger still in the affairs 
of every day life. 

Whims everybody has; they are by far too general, 
and in their influences too important, to be passed by 
without consideration. It is dangerous to combat them ; 
argument and persuasion are equally futile. People will 
stick to these until everything else is gone. It is whims 
that make some men what they are ; they cannot part 
with them ; they will not part with them. Whims are 
their own peculiar property — nobody else perhaps has 
anything of the kind. 

No one should for a moment inaagine that whims and 
odd fancies are peculiar to ignorant men ; the learned, as 
well as the ignorant, have their full share of them, and 



112 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

often those which are the most ridiculous. He who will 
not go back when he has forgotten something, for fear of 
ill luck, who believes in ghosts, witches and hobgoblins, 
or who, like the old woman, sees company in a tea-cup, is 
not a fool necessarily, nor crazy. One would make a 
great mistake, if he were to treat him as such. He doubt- 
less has no more of these freaks than we have, though it 
is possible they lie in a different direction. ■ The ancients 
who believed in their gods and goddesses, and trusted in 
the flights of birds, or in the oracles of a priestess, were by 
no means an ignorant peojjle. To appease their deities, 
the Eomans were accustomed to sacrifice a sheep or a 
goat, and on great occasions a whole ox ; but many of 
our enlightened moderns are also offering up their sacri- 
fices, only in a little different manner. 

In no sense can we say that superstition belongs alone 
to ignorant men ; education neither exterminates it, nor 
to any great extent suppresses it. The New Englanders 
who persecuted so many persons for witchcraft, were not 
much lower in point of intelligence than their modern 
representatives. Our greatest men have been those who 
were most superstitious and most whimsical. 

" Beliefs rest, for the most part, on foundations which 
arguments cannot reach — on feelings, habits, prejudices, 
the bias of interests, and of wishes, and of fears, and they 
change without reason when the substratum of feeling in 
which they are rooted changes. All history shows that 
revolutions of popular belief have not taken place gradu- 
ally, in consequence of the assaults of reason, but sud- 
denly, from no immediate help of reason, in consequence 
of a certain change of sentiment that has been insensibly 
brought about ; the multitude which is shouting acclama- 
tions to its hero one day, is howling execrations at him 
another day, and could give no intelligent reason either 
for its adoration or its hatred, or for the change from the 
one to the other. The effect of mental infection, when 
enthusiasm is inflamed, is to cause multitudes to think and 
howl together, as jackals hunt in -packs." -Pathology of Mind. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 113 

ABOUT THE BOYS. 

When we look around and see how much larger the 
boys of the present generation are than boys of the same 
age were when we were young, Ave stand amazed to think 
what "stalwarts" they will become, if they keep on grow- 
ing in the same ratio up to the age of forty or fifty ! 
But, we think, it is a mistaken idea that boys either really 
know more now than boys did a hundred years ago, or 
need government less. Boys should be brought up now 
just as rigidly, just as carefully,- and just as kindly as they 
were in the days of our forefathers. They need a mas- 
ter ; they need discipline and direction. How small a 
portion of our drunkards, our loungers, our convicts, are 
made such after twenty ! It is better that a boy have a 
poor master, than no master at all. It is better that he 
have some little direction, rather than to be allowed to 
drift along as he will. " The first law that ever Grod gave 
to man," says Montaigne, " was a law of pure obedience. 
From obedience and submission spring all other virtues, 
.as all sin does from self -opinion. 1 ' Parents are to a large 
extent responsible in a hundred ways for the misfortunes 
that befall their children when grown to manhood. The 
relation between father and son, in most families, is en- 
tirely reversed now-a-days, as compared with what it was 
fifty years ago. Then the father was the head of the 
family; now, it is the son of fifteen years or over that 
often presides over affairs. Then, a boy was called a boy, 
as every boy should be ; now, at ten or twelve, he is 
recognized as a young gentleman, with all the honors and 
homage that belong to young gentlemen. Then, the 
father was called father, and treated as such ; now, it is 
the " old man," who acts as servant for the boy, and often 
wears out his old clothes. Then, the father gave his 
orders, and they were implicitly obeyed. Now, the son 
simply gives a piece of his mind, and he either has his 
own way, or there is a disturbance in the family. Then, 
the boy went to school winters, and in the summer worked 



114 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

on the farm. Now, lie attends the academy or college 
quite the year round, and when he gets though, he be- 
comes a lawyer, or doctor, or merchant — or loafer, perhaps. 
Then, boys learned a trade, and grew up and did some- 
thing. Now, everything comes to them by intuition, and 
the distance from the school to some business pursuit is 
apparently only a skip and a hop, or a hop and a jump. 

As for ourself, we have no patience with this "system 
of education, " or this mode of '' bringing up boys." This 
kindness, this indulgence, this generosity towards boys, is 
the ruin of our race. It fills our prisons, and crowds our 
almshouses. It makes loafers, and thieves, and robbers, 
and cut-throats, but it does not make sober, industrious, 
peaceable and prosperous citizens. If a young man grows 
up and amounts to something, it is, in nine cases out of 
ten, in spite of his education. He need not thank his 
discipline at home, or his teaching at school, for much 
that he has done, or much that he has become. No, we 
say it because we know it, and know it because we have 
had the best means of knowing it, our boys are being lost 
by hundreds, nay, by thousands, solely for want of a master. 
We feed them on too light diet, we humor them with too 
many playthings. We give them too much sponge cake, 
and buy for them too liberally of peanuts and con- 
fectionery. They are not taught to obey. They- are not 
taught to work. They are not taught to bear want and 
endure fatigue. They are not taught to honor their pa- 
rents at home, nor respect strangers abroad. They regard 
neither person, property, nor propriety. " Boys will be 
boys, you know," is a common saying, and that serves to 
excuse all sorts of deviltry, and all manner of meanness 
and crime. 

At school, the same tendencies of the boy are manifest. 
Our colleges are even worse in this respect than schools of 
lower grade. They make some learned men, but they 
put forth no great efforts to make true gentlemen. Their 
students- are granted all manner of immunities, and what 
is treated as criminal and base anions men, is considered 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 115 

handsome and smart among boys. They are compelled to 
observe very few of the Christian virtnes. Their stand- 
ing depends much npon what they pay, still more npon 
precocity, but not so much upon deportment. They care 
little for the professors, and still less for their fellow stu- 
dents. They have not the slightest notion of their obli- 
gation to others. They know nothing of law, and heed 
not the penalties thereof. They are as reckless, as merci- 
less, and as lawless as so many bandits. Their continued 
attitude is that of ' rebels, whom the whole faculty com- 
bined cannot, at all times, bring under subjection. What 
is worse, their teachers see, and often connive at, their in- 
iquities, shameful as they are. The whole thing is viewed 
chiefly from the stand-point of patronage. It is usually 
considered better to indulge the boys in their tantrums, 
than to run the risk of a general withdrawal. 

Ever and anon we hear of some bright piece of rascality 
performed by college boys. These things occur at least 
often enough to demonstrate that there is something radi- 
cally wrong, not only in our college and high-school sys- 
tems,' but likewise in the training of the young at home. 
TVere this not so, we should never have been called upon 
to chronicle the event that took place at a leading uni- 
versity, some little time since. It seems that, not long 
before, the sophomores of that institution had had a con- 
vivial time, and the freshmen, in a very rude manner, had 
disturbed the meeting. Hence it was that when it was 
ascertained, not long after, that the freshmen were to have 
a banquet, the sophomores considered it to be their 
bounden duty to do what they could to make it un- 
pleasant for the freshmen. So, late at night, or rather, 
early in the morning, the . sophomores went quietly in a 
body to the rooms of the president and vice-president 
of the freshmen, and finding the doors barricaded, pro- 
ceeded to hew them down. They were not long in effect- 
ing an entrance. The two freshmen were thoroughly 
frightened, and yielded to any terms that were given 
them. They were told to make no outcry and they 



116 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

should not be harmed. After the young men had 
dressed, they were put into a hack, in company with two 
sophomores, and driven to a town not far distant. Here 
the cars were taken, and the four eventually landed in a 
city some miles farther on. Detectives in that city had 
been telegraphed to, and the whole party were arrested 
and taken back to the town from which they had started. 
The authorities there proposed to treat it as a case of kid- 
napping and punish the culprits accordingly, and it was 
refreshing to read in that connection that the college pro- 
fessors would not interfere, that is, they would not 
obstruct the laws, and they would not screen and protect 
the rascals, as had been done by college professors too 
often before. 

We doubt not that these young men, and perhaps all the 
young men in this and other colleges, and doubtless many 
young men, and even old men, not in college, looked upon 
this as a bright performance. It was what is usually 
called fun. Nothing is said as to whether the young men 
concerned in this pretty affair were either drunk or sober. 
If sober, this deserves to be noticed as rather an excep- 
tional case. 

We might refer to the inhuman manner in which the 
colored cadets were treated at our national military school, 
by professors and fellow cadets alike. We might dwell 
at length upon an outrageous case at one of our colleges, 
not a great while ago, where a young man was caught by 
fellow students, bound, gagged, put in a carriage, driven 
several miles to a piece of woods, and after his head had 
been shaved, tied to a tree and there left, late at night, 
either to perish or escape, as chance might determine. 
But we have not the space. Suffice it to say, the history 
of our higher seminaries of learning is full of such cases. 

Clearly enough, the notions which the public have as 
to what constitutes college and school propriety, are sadly 
perverted. Things are looked upon as being decidedly 
smart in boys, which, in fact, are simply villainous. They 
are not taught, as they should be, to respect the person, 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 117 

property, and feelings of their fellows. They are not 
taught that might does not constitute right, and that what 
is ungentlemanly in a man, is equally unbecoming in 
a boy. 

There are two main causes for the continued and re- 
peated acts of rascality in boys. One is the false notions 
which parents have as to what really is smartness in boys, 
and the other is, that the college and school authorities 
are allowed to step in and prevent the law from taking its 
course. In fact, we shall never have things much better, 
so long as the school and college authorities are the ones 
who are expected to punish the offenders of their own in- 
stitutions. They will not do it ; that is, not generally, or 
not adequately. Their interest is commonly against pun- 
ishing the offenders. It injures the reputation of their 
institutions, and if boys are punished, as they should be, 
they are apt to leave the school, and thus the numbers are 
depleted and the revenues are diminished. No, offenders 
in schools, especially the higher schools, should be pun- 
ished as men are, according to law. Until this is done, as 
it eventually will be done, we need not expect a better 
state of things in our higher institutions of learning. 



REPUTATION. 



The evil that men do, lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones. 

Bad deeds, which are the source of bad reputations, are 
more lasting in their effects, and more extended in their 
influence, than is commonly suspected. It is a very mis- 
taken notion with many that when a man dies, that is the 
last of him. The example he has set' still exists, and the 
sad effects of the wicked work he may have done will go 
on and on, long after the dead man's bones have moldered 
and turned into dust. Unfortunately, it is not equally 
true of the good or great deeds he may have performed. 
They are often unknown, and too often forgotten. A 



118 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

man's reputation is made not so much by what he has 
done, as by what he is known or supposed to have done. 
How many men have credit for what they never have 
achieved, and how many are rewarded with what they 
never have deserved ! Philip, we are told, having made 
himself master of Potidea, received three messengers in 
one day. The first brought him an account of a great 
victory gained over the Illyrians by his general, Par- 
menio ; the second told him that he was proclaimed victor 
at the Olympic games ; and the third informed him of 
the birth of Alexander. But there was nothing in all 
these events that ought to have fed the vanity, or that 
would have justified the pride, of Philip, since, as one 
writer justly observes, " for the first, he was indebted to 
his general ; for the second, to his horse ; and his wife is 
shrewdly suspected of having helped him to the third." 
And so it is with thousands of other achievements with 
which men are found to be credited in history. And it is 
astonishing to see by what slender threads the reputations 
of some of our best men are suspended, by what accidents 
they have been elevated, and by what trifling circum- 
stances they are sometimes cast down and forgotten. 
Newton's " Optics " was scarcely known in England until 
after it had gained some notoriety in France. Farns- 
worth's translation of Machiavel's work, which was for a 
long time held to be valueless, is now sold at a high price. 
Many works that are now rare, and hard to be obtained 
for any sum, failed, when first published, from an abso- 
lute want of patronage. 

The present eye praises the present object : 
Then marvel not, thou great and complete man, 
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax, 
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye 
Than what not stirs. 

It was a worthy saying of Cato that he would much 
rather that posterity should inquire why no statues were 
erected to him, than why they were erected. He doubt- 
less considered the very strange reasons that are usually 
given for according statues to a certain few men. 



THE STUDY OF MAN, 119 

How little real merit has to do with our popularity, let 
the following anecdote illustrate : When Churchill first 
published his poem called " Kosciad," only five copies 
were sold by his bookseller in as many days ; at the end 
of ten, only four more. He became alarmed, and was 
almost overwhelmed with grief and disappointment He 
went to a friend and told him of his misfortune. His 
friend, who was intimate with Grarrick, went to him in 
the morning and informed him what a beautiful picture 
of his astonishing abilities there was exhibited in the 
" Kosciad.'' This pleased Grarrick amazingly. He sent 
for it, read it, and sounded its praises wherever he went. 
The next evening the publisher had not a single copy 
left ; and in a few weeks, so many editions were sold that 
Churchill found himself richer than any poet in the 
realm. On such a slender thread do great reputations 
hang! 

The laws which govern the growth of a man's reputa- 
tion are curious indeed ; they are more, they are incom- 
prehensible. " You are either in or out of the 
Penitentiary," says Captain Marryatt. " If you are 
once in, you are lost forever ; but keep out, and you 
are as good as your neighbor." The sailors have this 
saying also: "If you once give a dog a bad name, he 
might as well jump overboard." Nothing will compensate 
for a reputation ruined. It is in the estimation of others 
that we live and have our existence. Nothing is valuable 
to ourselves that is not also valuable to others ; we beain 
even to despise ourselves, when we find that we are 
despised by everybody else. 

How easily reputation may be lost, as well as how com- 
pletely and irretrievably lost it may be, it becomes us 
well to consider. The higher a man is standing, the 
farther he may fall, and the lower he may descend. 
Benedict Arnold was, at one period of our Kevolution, 
one of America's favorite generals. Yet, in the end, he 
had become so despicable in the eyes of his countrymen, 
that when Talleyrand, who was now also fallen from his 



120 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

high estate, had come as a poor beggar to ask him for a 
letter to some one in America, where he intended to seek 
a home, he received from the traitor this remarkable 
answer : — " I am the only man born in the New World 
who can raise his hands to God and say, i" have not a 
friend, not one, in all America." 

So long ago as the days of Montaigne, it was observed 
that " dignities and offices are of necessity conferred more 
by fortune than by merit. And we are to blame, to con- 
demn kings when they are misplaced ; on the contrary, 
'tis a wonder they should have such good luck, where 
there is so little skill." It needs hardly to be called 
to remembrance that a large proportion of merit goes 
unrewarded, because undiscovered. It requires time and 
perseverance to enable a man to appear properly in 
public ; it requires tact, friends and money to sustain and 
press forward his claims. 

The circumstances under which men act should always 
be considered in forming our estimate of their character 
and their conduct. The motive, and the temptation to be 
resisted, should enter largely into the calculation. It 
is no especial honor to a man to die poor, but when 
a man like Pitt, standing high with his sovereign, and 
with abundant opportunities of enriching himself with 
money from the public treasury, dies poor, we have 
afforded to us strong proof of his integrity and his 
incorruptibility as an officer. Brutus has credit for 
patriotism. Yet his was anything but patriotism in the 
true sense. In the words of Lacon, "he worshiped 
honor, and in his zeal, mistook it for virtue. In the day 
of trial, he found her a shadow and a name." 

But after all, we cannot, as matters go in this world, 
place too high a value upon the good opinion of men. 
A man can travel a long way on a favorable reputation, if 
he is careful to stay where he is acquainted. But a bad 
name is a j)erpetual accuser. If anything wrong is done, 
and the culprit is not readily detected, the man with a bad 
name is pretty certain to be looked upon as the guilty 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 121 

wretch. The difference between a man with a good name 
and another with a bad name, is that the former is deemed 
innocent until he is proved guilty, while the other is 
deemed guilty until he is proved innocent, and as proof 
is not always at hand, this suspicion of guilt often settles 
the whole question. The reputation which a business 
firm has gained, after years of fair dealing and success in 
pleasing its customers, is often of itself as good as a 
fortune. 

What people think of us is all the world to us ; what 
we think of ourselves, matters not so much. It will not 
answer to trust our character in the hands of chance ; 
there is no way of conjecturing whither it may be wafted 
in the end. "We must have a care not only how things 
are. but how they seem to others. Many people die 
ruined in reputation and lost, merely for the want of a 
little evidence to demonstrate their innocence. 



DIVERSION. 

Men, like children, are delighted with playthings. They 
love to be diverted. As with children, the plaything of 
to-day must be replaced by some new plaything to-morrow. 
Nothing lasts and pleases any great length of time. Some- 
times it is this fashion, and sometimes that, which diverts 
people. Sometimes it is the opera, sometimes philosophy, 
sometimes romance, sometimes temperance, sometimes 
politics, and sometimes stocks and speculation that inter- 
ests people. No matter what it is, it must be something- 
new and capable of affording about so much amusement 
or diversion. Men buy a ticket to the show and go there 
to be diverted, and they purchase and peruse a book for 
the same reason. But then we should not complain of 
this phenomenon, which is so common in every-day life 
People get prose enough in their daily business walks — 
what they want is poetry betimes for a change. They 



122 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

find hard work and sober realities everywhere — what they 
want for relief is something in the line of fun, fiction, or 
fantasy. 



ADVEKTISING. 



No business can prosper to any great extent in this 
country unless it is advertised. Business must be pushed, 
or it soon declines, and advertising is one of the ways of 
pushing it. What is not kept constantly before men's 
eyes is soon forgotten. They must be continually re- 
minded in some way that a man is alive, or they are apt 
to infer that he is either dead or retired from business. 
People must make a noise, or they will not be heard. In 
fact, noise has a great deal to do with success in this 
world. Thunder may not be capable of doing the least 
damage, and yet it leaves a much stronger and more last- 
ing impression than even the deadly lightning itself. 



LAW AND EQUITY. 

"All men," says Pyrrho, "regulate their conduct by 
received opinions ; everything is done through habit, and 
examined with reference to the laws and customs of a 
particular country; but whether these laws be good or 
bad, it is impossible to determine." 

People generally have the notion fixed in their minds 
that law and justice are interchangeable terms ; that law 
is founded upon justice, and that an appeal to the former 
is certain to result in securing the latter. But those who 
have had much experience in courts, understand very 
well the absurdity of such a belief. It is a rare thing 
that people get exact justice by going to law ; they either 
get too much or too little, or it may be, get nothing at all. 
If simple justice is done, both sides ought to be thor- 



THE STUDY OF MAN 123 

oughly satisfied with the result of their litigation. But it 
is a well-known fact that such a thing rarely or never hap- 
pens. One party or the other is certain to be disappointed, 
and it often occurs that both complain. The lawyers, 
however, are usually happy, no matter which of the liti- 
gants happens to be the unfortunate victim. 

The laws of a people are the expressions merely of its 
ideas of the justness and fitness of things. If a people 
have whims or prejudices, or strange freaks of any kind, 
its laws are sure to embody and perpetuate them. It is 
bad enough for a people to have unjust or insane ideas, but 
it is infinitely worse when these are taken up and circu- 
lated as the only true and legal coin of the land. A 
principle once put forth in the form of law, it is almost im- 
possible to be eradicated. Most of the fundamental law of 
this country was made by men who lived and died many 
centuries ago. It is useless to protest that these laws are 
unjust, unreasonable, inapplicable and absurd. They are 
law, and that answers all objections. Whatever is writ- 
ten is written, and whatever is law is law — and that is the 
end of it. They of the Anglo-Saxon race are terrible 
sticklers for precedents and privileges, and it will never 
answer to quarrel with them on these matters. 

We doubt not, the laws of the country were made pri- 
marily for the purpose of protecting the innocent and 
punishing the guilty, but in too many cases it is the very 
reverse that happens. It is the innocent, too often, that 
suffer, while the rogues go unpunished. A witness to a 
suit, who has no sort of interest in the matter, often suf- 
fers more in property and reputation than either of the 
parties to the action. Every conceivable arrangement 
seems to be made by which to screen culprits and enable 
them to escape ; but let an innocent man be thrown under 
suspicion, and if he breaks through the meshes of the 
law, he is fortunate indeed. What makes the case still 
worse, is the inducement offered to those connected with 
our courts to arrest, if not convict, men whether guilty or 
not. The lawyer who starts the case gets his fees, the- 



124 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

witness gets his fees, and very often the court gets its fees. 
To make it worse yet, there is another class of officers 
who have a direct interest in convicting a man. They 
sometimes share in the fines, and in other cases get mile- 
age, which, if the prisoner was acquitted, they would fail 
to secure. Men of means are sometimes arrested and 
brought into court, with no other object in view but the 
plunder that is to be secured by a compromise with the 
victim. 

We can find plenty of illustrations to prove that law is 
one thing, and justice another, but perhaps none would be 
found more forcible than the rights of children, or rather, 
the absence of their rights, as determined by law and 
custom. The father and master have rights over the child 
which are given to them by jurists whose decisions be- 
came law at least one thousand years ago. The people of 
to-day would of themselves neither make nor approve 
such laws. They do not change what is written, because 
of their righteous regard for precedent. According to 
their notions, whatever is, is right. Besides, there is no 
call for a change. The beings affected are nothing but 
children, infants, human beings under twenty-one years of 
age. Such beings do not protest — they have no right to 
protest. They do not appeal, because there is no law or 
precedent for such a step. If they did appeal, they would 
not be heard, since there is, in practice, no one whose 
province or duty it is to hear the appeal of children. 

We have societies, and laws also, for the prevention of 
-cruelty to animals. But no such thing, so far as we know, 
has ever been thought of or mentioned for children. But 
have children no wrongs to complain of, no cruelties to 
protest against ? Let any one of our readers turn back 
.and bring to remembrance his childhood and his school- 
boy days, and see if he was always fairly, justly, not to 
say humanely, treated. Was he never punished without 
cause, and beyond reason? Was he never kicked and 
cuffed about like a dog ? Was he never beaten like an 
ox? Was he never accused falsely? Was he never 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 125 

made to suffer for other people's sins ? Was he never de- 
nied the right to explain or justify ? Was he never the 
victim of his master's petulance or prejudice ? Did not 
the state of his master's liver, or perhaps the response of 
his sweetheart, have a good deal to do with the number 
of blows he received ? Did he ever find any one to 
whom he might pour forth his complaints, or who, if he 
heard them, could render him any aid ? The father and 
the master are omnipotent — practically and literally they 
.are so. The law is with them. They have precedent on 
their side. The child, the infant, as they call him, even 
to the full age of twenty-one years, is a being and nothing 
•else. He is not only a slave, but worse than a slave. He 
has not even so much as physical strength on his side. 
He has no way of resenting any indignity, no way of de- 
fending himself against any assault. The father owns 
him and all he earns. According to the old Koman and 
Grecian theories, he had the power of life and death over 
■the child. He decided upon his destiny forever. Things 
.are not much changed from this at the present day. They 
.are toned down somewhat in theory, but they are not 
much different in practice. The parent or master may 
not perhaps be allowed to kill a child outright, but he can 
pursue a course that will be certain to lead to death in the 
end. Society looks on and sees the parent bring up the 
■child to become a pauper, or thief, or murderer, and says 
it must go on, because the child is his and he can do with 
it as he pleases. 

The law proceeds upon a false theory, that all fathers 
and masters are just, judicious, intelligent and reasonable. 
But he who knows the world, knows that this is very far 
from being the fact. Not one-half the fathers, and per- 
haps not one-half the masters, are able to educate a 
child as he should be educated. Not one-half of them 
are capable of dealing fairly and kindly by those who are 
placed absolutely under their control and into their 
hands — especially where their fears or hates, their preju- 
dices or partialities, are brought into action. Why should 



126 PRACTICAL LIFE AST) 

they have, the whole law put into their hands ? "Why 
should they be at the same time the judge, jury and 
prosecuting officer ? How does it come that there is no 
tribunal before which the child may appear and have at 
least a hearing, particularly in cases where serious punish- 
ments are to be, or have been, inflicted ? As a matter of strict 
fairness, as opposed to mere law, the fact should be recog- 
nized from the beginning that the youth is endowed with a 
soul and possessed of an intelligence capable of carrying 
him to the loftiest elevations yet attained by man ; that 
he has a heart, suffers pains, and feels indignities at 
least as keenly as adults ; that the parent should be the 
protector and guide, so long as protection and guid- 
ance are needed, but that he should never be allowed to 
assume that he owns the child. The master and the 
parent should never be suffered to inflict severe punish- 
ment under any circumstances, but grave cases should be 
referred to some cool, unprejudiced and faithful judge, 
who should hear the evidence, and decide what is just in 
the premises, precisely as is done in the case of an adult. 

We find that Montaigne, one of the few wise men of 
the world, wrote nearly three centuries ago as follows : — 
" The most of our civil governments, as Aristotle says, 
leave, after the manner of the Cyclops, to every one the 
ordering of their wives and children, according to their 
own foolish and indiscreet fancy. Who does not see that 
in a State, all depends upon the nurture and bringing up 
of the children ? And yet they are left to the merc}^ of 
parents, let them be as foolish and wicked as they will, 
without check. No one would demur at punishing with 
death a judge who should condemn a criminal on account 
of his own choler ; why any more their parents and 
pedants be allowed to whip and chastise children in their 
anger ? ; Tis then no longer correction, but revenge. 1 ' 

A few words may be added on the subject of judicial 
infallibility. Judges and juries have a remarkable con- 
ceit that what they decide is not only law, but justice. 
That it is law, we are not going to dispute, but whether it 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 127 

is necessarily justice and propriety, is another question. 
Law is merely an expression of authority. It is a simple 
declaration of the will of a master. Masters are some- 
times right, and sometimes wrong; they are sometimes 
fair men, and sometimes tyrants ; but their will is law all 
the same. Judges and juries are possessed of the whim 
that as they have decided the matter, so it must be. 
They do not want the least reflection upon their honor 
and wisdom. They have thought the matter over care- 
fully, drawn lots, or split the difference perhaps, given in 
their decision in due form, and that ought to be the end 
of it. But it never is the end of it. The outside world 
will have their appeaL They cannot see that judges and 
juries are anything else than men, and when these men 
hand in their verdict, they simply pass their opinion, just 
as other men give their opinion. A man does not know 
any more on the judge's bench, or in the juror's box, than 
he does out of it. Judges and juries, generally speaking, 
are perfectly honest and well-meaning — and still they 
may sometimes be wrong. Honesty has nothing to do 
with infallibility. We would not give a penny for a 
man's honesty and fairness, if for any reason he was in- 
capacitated for seeing and appreciating what was just and 
true. No, judges and juries are not infallible. If they 
were so, we should not have so many appeals and re- 
versals as we see now. 



THE FATE OF AITTHOKS. 

Those who suppose that authors have always earned 
and deserve the reputation they have gained, or on the 
other hand, that they have always been accorded the full 
credit to which they are entitled, are seriously in error. 
Many of our famous authors, perhaps most of them, suf- 
fered disheartening reverses when they began, and all could 
tell of scores of instances where they had been shamefully 
treated Hume, for instance, received very harsh and 



128 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

very unjust treatment. He was so disheartened by the 
reception which his first volume of history received, that 
at one time he had resolved to change his name and aban- 
don the country. At length when he had reached the ma- 
ture age of sixty-five, he began to be spoken of as a great 
author. But, alas, it was late, altogether too late for him. 
He only lived a year or two after that. Butler, who 
wrote the admired Hudibras, was left to starve, and, ac- 
cording to Dennis, he died in a garret. Smollett speaks 
the sentiments of more than one author, when he says : — 
" Of praise and censure, indeed, I am sick of both, and 
would to God my circumstances would allow me to con- 
sign my pen to oblivion." And again, " Had some of 
those who were pleased to call themselves my friends been 
at any pains to deserve the character, and told me ingen- 
uously what I had to expect in the capacity of an author,, 
when I first professed myself of that venerable fraternity, 
I should in all probability have spared myself the incredi- 
ble labor and chagrin I have since undergone." Even 
Irving's early writings were taken in England with great 
reluctance. In one case, at least, he was compelled to call 
in the assistance of Sir Walter Scott, before Murray, the 
publisher, would accept his manuscript. Ealeigh, disheart- 
ened by the reception his second volume of History met,, 
burned it. It is well known that many invaluable works 
have stopped with the first volume, on account of lack of 
appreciation on the part of the reading public. It is as 
true now as it was when Bishop Hard wrote it, many years 
since : " As times go, almost any trade is better than that of 
author." No man should write a work intended to last at 
least a life- time, and hope to be fairly rewarded for it in 
any way. 

Very slight indiscretions on the part of authors, a very 
trifling and apparently harmless paragraph, or even a sen- 
tence, have sufficed to ruin their works, especially in aris- 
tocratic countries. This was the unhappy fate of Carte, 
who happened to drop a remark in his book, while speak- 
ing of the healing power ascribed to kings, that seemed to 



THE STUDY OF MJLN. 129 

favor the claims of the Pretender. Carlyle says in his 
preface to a work on Schiller, " Nothing but the Newgate 
calendar is sadder than the history of authors." Books 
come in the class of luxuries, and few men get rich who 
have nothing but luxuries to offer. Luxuries people can 
dispense with, but necessaries they must have in some way. 
Jealousy on the part of others has as much to do with 
the want of success which attends the efforts of some au- 
thors as it has in obstructing the progress of the great in 
other walks of life. It is natural for men to hate those 
who succeed. It is painful to a large share of the human 
race to see others rise over them, and if they cannot rise 
themselves, they would do something to prevent others 
from doing so. The author is made to feel the full force 
of this principle. Montesquieu gives this testimony : " On 
my entering into life I was spoken of as a man of talents, 
and people of condition gave me a favorable reception ; 
but when the success of my Persian Letters proved per- 
haps that I was not unworthy of my reputation, and the 
public began to esteem me, my reception with the great 
was discouraging and I experienced innumerable mortifi- 
cations." Further on he adds: "The great, inwardly 
wounded with the glory of a celebrated name, seek to 
humble it. In general, he only can patiently endure the 
fame of others, who deserves fame himself." 

When we write a book and publish it, we are putting in 
the market what everybody is at liberty to take or refuse. 
He can perhaps get^along just as well without it, and if he 
buys it at all, he no doubt has reasons of his own for 
doing so. People are more whimsical and fanciful in their 
liking for books than in anything else. No one can tell 
with any more certainty what books will please the 
masses, than which way the wind will blow a month 
hence. The oldest book-men, and the most experienced 
publishers, very often make great and expensive blunders 
in their estimate upon the prospective popularity of a work. 
A single house in New York, some years since, lost more 
than §50,000 on a series of readers, which, with all their 



130 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

power and popularity as publishers, they never could sell. 
And on a mathematical series they lost as much, or more. 
Yet we feel assured it was not for want of merit in the 
books, for they had merit enough — that is admitted. But 
they did not happen to hit the fancy of the book-buying 
public — nothing more. 



TKIFLES. 



Some people are apt to place too low an estimate upon 
trifles. They do not always appreciate their full value, 
and do not understand their real importance. Why should 
we not mind little things ? Have they not done as much 
for this world as great things ? Are not the greatest of 
things themselves made up of small things ? Have not 
little things saved men's lives? Have they not even 
changed the destinies of nations ? Half of Napoleon's dis- 
asters at Leipsic would have been avoided, had it not been 
for the careless haste of a corporal in firing a mine at the 
bridge, and thus cutting off the means of retreat. Had 
Napoleon won at Leipsic, his whole career would have 
been different. Had it not been for Abraham Lincoln's 
inconsiderateness, or impoliteness, in not relieving a lady 
friend by carrying her baby, he might have married 
Mary Owens, and if he had, his whole life and history 
would have been different from what it was. Mary had 
an idea that if a man would not help a woman carry a 
baby, he would not make a very good husband, and so 
she broke off the engagement that had existed for some 
time between her and young Lincoln. The Mohammedans 
have a tradition that when their prophet concealed himself 
in Mount Shur, his pursuers were deceived by a spider's 
web, which covered the mouth of the cave. Careless and 
too rapid eating, with its consequent indigestion and effect 
upon the brain, is said to have been the prime cause of 
more than one of Napoleon's disasters. 

The people of Scotland have a tradition that a dram of 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 131 

brandy produced the restoration of Charles II. The mes- 
senger from the Parliament of England had brought let- 
ters to Monk whilst he remained at Edinburgh. This 
messenger was at length entrusted with despatches to the 
Governor of Edinburgh Castle, a circumstance which he 
mentioned to one of Monk's servants while on his journey. 
The man (a sergeant) saw something unusual in this, and 
prevailed upon his fellow-traveler to drink a dram of 
brandy with him at a neighboring ale-house, where the 
messenger became ultimately so drunk that the sergeant 
was able to take the papers from his custody without de- 
tection. This done, he posted to his general with the 
packet, who, on perusing its contents, found an order for 
his arrest and detention at the castle. Policy and resent- 
ment at once directed the eyes of Monk to Charles Stuart, 
and his restoration succeeded. 

The men of the present day would never have seen 
Shakespeare's plays, if he had not stolen deer from Sir 
Thomas Lucy's park, and afterward lampooned him in a 
ballad. Shakespeare fled to London and finally turned his 
attention to writing plays for the stage. 

We will give one more illustration of the result of tak- 
ing a single drink. It is that of the Duke of Orleans, the 
eldest son of King Louis Phillippe. He was a very noble 
young man — physically noble. His generous qualities 
had made him universally popular. One morning he in- 
vited a few of his friends to breakfast, as he was about to 
depart from Paris to join his regiment. In the convivial- 
ity of the hour, he .drank a little too much wine. He did 
not become intoxicated ; he was not in any respect a dis- 
sipated man. His character was lofty and noble. But in 
that joyous hour, he drank just one glass too much. In 
taking the parting glass, he slightly lost the balance of his 
body and mind. Bidding adieu to his companions, he en- 
tered the carriage ; but for that one glass of wine he would 
have kept his seat. Kemembering something, he leaped 
from his carriage ; but for that glass of wine, he would 
have alighted on his feet. His head struck the pave- 



132 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

ment. Senseless and bleeding, lie was taken into a beer- 
shop near by and died. That extra glass of wine over- 
threw the Orleans dynasty, confiscated their property, and 
sent the whole family into exile. 

How small a thing will create a panic or move a mob 
to violence ! Emerson sa} 7 s that every revolution is first 
of all a thought in the mind of a single man. A man 
shook the rails in Park Lane, and a mob was the result 
Justin McCarthy tells the story in the following words : — 
" He shook tha rails ; the rails began to give way. Not 
that alone, but the sudden movement was felt along the 
line, and into a hundred minds came at once the grand 
revolutionary idea which an instant before had been a 
thought in the mind of one hitherto unimportant man. 
A simultaneous impulsive rush, and some yards of rail- 
ing were down, and men in scores were tumbling and 
floundering and rushing over them. The example was 
followed along Park Lane, and in a moment half a mile of 
railing was lying on the grass, and a tumultuous and de- 
lighted mob were swarming over the park." 

Louis VII, of France, in obedience to the commands 
of his bishops, had his hair cut off and his beard shaved. 
This made him appear so disgusting to his wife, Queen 
Eleanor, that it led to a separation,' and finally to a 
divorce. But the story does not end here. She after- 
wards married the Count of Anjou, soon after Henry II, 
of England. Her marriage dower came in question, and 
in the end, led to a war which cost France many millions 
of money, and, with some intermission, lasted three hun- 
dred years. 

Luther would never have been the great reformer had 
it not been for a lightning stroke which killed his friend ; 
and Paul, the Apostle, how was he turned from his 
wickedness ? The murder of Caesar has been attributed 
to the fact of his not rising from his seat in response to 
honors tendered him by the Senate. In another sense, it 
may be said to have been owing to his careless omission 
to open and read a note which disclosed to him the par- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 133 

ticulars of the plot. The neglect, or stupidity, of one 
general lost Napoleon the battle of Waterloo. An absurd 
fancy of King George for another palace led to taxation 
in America, and taxation to the final independence of 
that country. Again, how much has been lost by being 
a minute too late — too late for the train, too late for the 
mail, too late for the meeting — only a minute too late ! 
You will observe that our greatest and most successful 
men have been most careful and considerate about small 
things. We do not know how soon these small things, 
by the magic touch of some fairy's wand, may be trans- 
formed into those of the greatest magnitude and im- 
portance. 

A single book, the Emilius of Eosseau. revolutionized 
the whole system of education in modern Europe. The 
writings of John Huss made Martin Luther the reformer, 
as the writings of Wickliffe had before given birth to 
Huss. "The Yicar of Wakefield," now counted among 
Goldsmith's most popular works, was left unnoticed for a 
'long time, and might have remained so up to this time, 
perhaps, had not Lord Holland, being ill, and sending to 
his book-seller for some amusing work, received this, and 
read it and sounded forth its praises wherever he went. 

•• Character." says Samuel Smiles, i; is made up of small 
duties faithfully performed — of self-denials, of self-sacri- 
fices, of kindly acts of love and duty. The back-bone of 
character is laid at home, and whether the constitutional 
tendencies be good or bad, home influences will, as a rule. 
fan them into activity. He that is faithful in little is 
faithful in much : and he that is unfaithful in little is un- 
faithful also in much. There are many trivial acts of 
kindness, which teach us more about a man's character 
than many vague phrases. These are easy to acquire, 
and their effects will last much longer than this very tem- 
porary life." 

" In great matters of public moment, where both par- 
ties are at a stand, and both are punctilious, slight con- 
descensions cost little, but are worth much. He that 



134 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

yields them is wise, inasmuch as lie purchases guineas 
with farthings." — Lacon. A grain of sand, nay, even 
something lighter than a grain of sand, may destroy the 
balance in a pair of scales. The vote of one man may 
elect a president, and thus it would count more upon one 
side than one million of votes upon the other side. It 
will not answer to estimate the worth of things by their 
size, or their potency by their dimensions. He who 
founds his calculations on such a basis, is certain to fail. 
"Life is made up of little things — small breaths and short 
heart-beats. Food and drink are necessary, and morsels 
make them." 

We conclude by making reference to the importance of 
paying attention to such little things as the heels. The 
extract is taken from a paper that has fallen under our 
notice: — ''The heels are too frequently neglected, and 
here is the great mistake. The people who take most 
notice — of boots, certainly, and of many other points — 
are those who come after or behind us, whether in the 
walks of life, or after life's walk shall have been ended. 
Polish your heels, boys ! Begin by polishing your heels, 
in the hope and ambition that in the forward, upward 
paths of the world, envious detractors may not be able to 
find, as in the case of Achilles, that the heel at least is 
vulnerable. It was just that little carelessness about the 
heel that cost the redoubtable warrior his life. Again, 
there is a sense of subterfuge about the neglect of polish 
in this particular direction, which indicates or leads to 
graver faults. ' Nobody will see it ! ' is one of the most 
fatal delusions — one of the greatest snares to which hu- 
manity can subject itself. Then, finally, there is a lack 
of thoroughness, and that alone is sufficiently condemna- 
tory. Therefore, we say again, in every sense and in 
every manner, polish your heels." 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 135 



PUNISHMENTS. 



No one will dispute, in this enlightened and progressive 
age, that the object of all punishment on the part of 
society should be simply its own security and protec- 
tion. To punish criminals because they deserve punish- 
ment, hardly comes within the province of man. He 
may not be capable of deciding properly, and he may 
sometimes assume that the culprit deserves punishment, 
when in reality it would be unjust. 

It is not certain that punishments prevent crime, except 
to a limited extent. In most instances, crime is not the 
result of reflection or calculation. It is often a matter of 
impulse, and the question of punishment does not enter 
into the case, so far as the thoughts of the offender are 
concerned. And when the question of punishment is 
considered by the offender before the commission of the 
crime, he uniformly calculates either upon escape from 
detection, or upon a light punishment, if he is appre- 
hended. If a man were always certain of being punished 
to the fullest extent of the law, he would rarely commit 
a crime. As a matter of reasoning, the criminal always 
provides all the safeguards possible against detection be- 
fore the crime is committed. 

To illustrate these facts, we may take the instance of 
the Fenian excitement in Ireland, in 1866-7. Three 
men, Allen, Larkin and O'Brien, were hanged for the 
killing of officer Brett, but the excitement caused by 
their execution had scarcely died away, before an attempt 
was made by other Fenians and their sympathizers to res- 
cue two prisoners in Clerkenwell House of Detention by 
blowing up the institution. And so it has happened 
thousands of times in similar cases. How often is a mur^ 
der committed in a neighborhood before the man who has 
been hanged has hardly had time to be cold ! So it has 
been with the violent repressive measures taken by the 
government of Eussia to prevent the spread of Nihilism 
in that country. Executions, no matter how numerous, 



136 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

seem to have done no good, and the more severe and the 
more barbarous the methods of punishment, the less it 
does toward restoring peace and tranquility. Plenty of 
men can always be found who are anxious to become 
martyrs, in order to be rendered notorious, and punish- 
ment in their case is the very thing they desire. The 
effect of executions is well illustrated in the case of the 
assassins of Alexander II. We learn from a writer in 
the Paris Voltaire that the criminals who are constantly 
sent to the gallows are easily transformed by the popular 
imagination into heroes and martyrs, and their lives are 
surrounded with a halo of legend which works on the 
mind of the masses. In this way, he adds, each case of 
execution has become a means of propagating Nihilism, 
and instead of decreasing its supporters, only makes fresh 
converts. For example, Sophia Perowska has been ele- 
vated into a sort of St. Agnes. Her life has been written 
in the form of a religious romance, in which the most ex- 
traordinary virtues are attributed to her. She is worshiped 
as a martyr, and the Nihilists faithfully regard the clothes 
she wore, and the ringlets which were cut from her head, 
as so many precious relics. These objects have been dis- 
tributed as talismans among the leaders of the party. 
The Sunday preceding her execution, Alexander III re- 
ceived a letter, which concluded as follows: — "If she is 
executed, thou wilt perish thyself, and thy death will be 
far more frightful than that of thy father. That death 
will overtake thee far more speedily than thy valets 
imagine." 

Yet men must be restrained in some way, and the 
question is, How shall it be done ? It seems to us that 
public ojDinion has more to do with this matter than 
anything else. What the public universally condemns 
fs generally apt to be suppressed, and what it does 
not unmistakably condemn, no law can prevent. But 
few men are so bold as to attempt to run counter to a 
firm and unmistakable public sentiment. The very 
worst punishment that can be accorded to any man, is 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 137 

to allow him to live and drag out his existence simply as 
an outlaw. Cain, it will be remembered, said it was 
a greater punishment than he could bear. We doubt 
whether anything could be devised better calculated 
to prevent the repetition of an infamous crime, a crime 
which all mankind condemns and abhors, than to brand 
the criminal and turn him loose. To such a man, this 
world would be the most perfect hell that could be 
imagined. It must be remembered that the crimes which 
daring men commit are those which they imagine will be 
regarded as heroic, or which at least will prove sen- 
sational. 

There is no question but that our laws should appeal 
more to a man's pride and honor than they do at present. 
To punish a man as they did in Yan Dieman's Land, by 
simply breaking his heart and destroying his soul, will 
not go far towards redeeming a lost member of the 
human family. It certainly never has yet. The best 
way is to study how to make men better, and then 
the punishments they will require will be so much 
the milder and infrequent. 

It is absolutely certain that much of our criminal code 
is worthy of the inhabitants only of a pagan land. There 
is little sense, or reason, in it. For instance, if a poor man, 
either from impulse or necessity, steals a cow, or a few 
dollars in money, he is sent to State prison for a term of 
years ; but if one had stolen a fortune, or robbed the gov- 
ernment of a hundred thousand dollars, under circum- 
stances ever so aggravating, his punishment would be 
lighter rather than heavier than that of the poor man. 
A poor and famishing old English woman drank a pint 
of milk left upon a door-step. The English law sits 
down heavily upon offenders of this class, and the poor 
old dame was sent to prison for two months. Two broth- 
el's in New York, who knocked a man down and stole 
forty cents from his person, were recently sentenced to 
twelve years each in the State prison. But eight years is 
the maximum penalty for shooting the President of the 



138 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

United States, unless the wounds prove fatal In most 
cases, larceny should be punishable simply with fines, 
especially since sending one man to prison for larceny at 
one time, has but very little to do with preventing an- 
other man from stealing at some other time. As to 
capital punishments, we would hesitate long before in- 
flicting them. As to the future, they rarely prevent mur- 
ders ; and as to the past, they afford little comfort to the 
afflicted, and absolutely no consolation or compensation 
for the loved one that is lost. Moreover, capital punish- 
ments are always excessively barbarous. Indeed, we 
hardly know, sometimes, which is the really guilty party 
in such cases, whether it is the man who kills another in 
the heat of passion, or under the influence of liquor, or 
from some uncontrollable impulse, or whether it is the 
people who, with or without the forms of law, take a 
man in cold blood, and, simply because they have the 
power, hang him upon the gibbet which they have con- 
structed. This is the vengeance of the law, and nothing 
more. It makes no- difference that the victim is supposed 
to be guilty. If he were, as he often is, entirely inno- 
cent, and he were burned and tortured at the stake, the 
case would not be at all different from one of our every- 
day cases of hanging. It makes all the difference in the 
world who does the work. If men not officers should do 
such things as men often do under the name and sanction 
of the law, they would be regarded at home and abroad 
as infamous wretches. 

The prevailing ideas in regard to punishments need to 
be modified, and the present methods of dealing with 
criminals demand improvement and rectification. The 
same principles will apj)ly as well in private life as in 
executing the law. It is a very grave question whether 
any man ever gets value received when he undertakes 
simply to punish a man for some offence he may have 
committed. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 139 

THE MOTIVES OF MEN. 

The strangeness of men's motives, in certain cases, is 
a matter worthy of serious consideration. Sane men 
are supposed to be rational, and as such, to have some 
sensible motive for all they do. But, as a matter of fact, 
some of their motives are very strange, and are hardly in 
accordance with the laws of reason. If the motive is too 
far out of the usual course, a man is supposed to be in- 
sane, but there are many cases where sane men have very 
insane motives. 

What shall we think of the man who would not drown 
himself, for fear of being eaten up by the sharks ? Or of 
that man of rank and title who destroyed himself, while 
in full possession of everything that could make life de- 
sirable, leaving it on record that he committed the act 
only because he was tired of putting on his clothes in the 
morning, and taking them off at night ? 

What may appear as a rational motive to one man, to 
another might appear singular. Captain Speke, tell- 
ing of the savages with whom he came in contact, says : — 
" If I walked up and down the same place, to stretch my 
legs, they formed councils of war on my motives, con- 
sidering I must have some secret designs upon their 
country, or I would not do it, as no man in his senses 
would be guilty of working his legs unnecessarily." 

The following from an Albany paper shows what un- 
usual motives there sometimes are for certain lines of 
conduct — "A very curious case occurred not many years 
ago in the executive chamber, which may be of interest, 
and which has never been published with actual names, 
dates, or places. In fact, the knowledge of the case 
which the writer of this article obtained, was given him 
under a pledge that in no publication of the matter should 
he state names, places, or dates. The coachman of a 
wealthy man, residing in a handsome country residence, 
was charged with an outrage upon his employer's wife, 
and having been caught by the husband, in a grotto upon 



140 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

the place, almost in the act of brutality, at once acknowl- 
edged his guilt, and was conveyed to jail. The wife had 
screamed lustily for help, and made an affidavit at the 
trial, being disabled, by reason of nervousness and terror, 
from appearing on the witness-stand; and the accused, 
with bowed head, admitted his guilt. The husband testi- 
fied merely to his presence in the vicinity of the grotto, 
to which he was drawn by the necessity of hunting up 
his coachman, whose services he had needed, and whose 
presence somewhere on the farm had been notified him by 
the other help. On approaching the grotto, he was 
alarmed by the cries of his wife, and rushed to her as- 
sistance. The coachman was sentenced to ten years in a 
State prison. Some three months after his sentence, a 
veiled woman appeared at the executive chamber, and re- 
quested private audience of the gentleman who was then 
governor. At that audience, she admitted that she had 
been guilty voluntarily with the prisoner ; that she dis- 
covered her husband approaching, and told the prisoner 
of it in the grotto ; that he urged her to charge him with 
outrage to save herself, and that she had done so. She 
asked that, under the circumstances, he be pardoned ; and 
after a thorough investigation of the case, the governor 
issued the pardon. One instance of his method of in- 
vestigation was to visit the woman at her residence and 
dine with her and her husband, in order to discover cer- 
tainly if she was the woman she pretended to be, and 
another was to accompany her to the prison where the 
prisoner was confined, and, in an adjoining cell, overhear 
him upbraid her for calling upon him, under the fear that 
her doing so might expose all. Upon the record of this 
pardon in the executive chamber are written the words, 
in blue pencil, 'Not to be published,' and the facts, 
which, by the way, are not stated on the record, have not 
heretofore been published, while the actual fact of the 
pardon has probably not reached even the husband's 
ears." 

The following account, from another paper, tells of an 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 141 

adventure with a man who was pronounced a maniac. 
Every man is called a madman who acts and reasons 
strangely, but it must be remembered that even madmen 
reason, and they have their motives precisely the same as 
sound men. The scene is laid at Fair Point, on Chau- 
tauqua Lake: — "A rather finely-dressed and well-appear- 
ing man landed at the Point, and engaged board for a 
fortnight at the Palace Hotel. There was nothing un- 
usual in his appearance, nor did it seem at all remarkable 
when he attended church on Sunday morning and bowed 
in fervent prayer -near the altar. People noting his con- 
spicuous position, looked with admiring wonder upon the 
man who, regardless of the scrutinizing vision of the 
whole congregation, manifested his religious zeal in the 
most emphatic manner. On Monday morning, the stran- 
ger strolled out near the lake, and there met Greorge 
Irwin, a somewhat noted duck-hunter, who had just 
come in with his dog and gun. The finely-dressed stran- 
ger affably greeted Mr. Irwin, and asked to be allowed to 
examine his gun. Mr. Irwin unsuspectingly handed over 
the weapon, when the stranger carefully examined it, 
then cocked it, and holding it toward Mr. Irwin, asked 
him how he would rather die — would he prefer being 
drowned to being shot ? Even then, the man seemed per- 
fectly natural. Mr. Irwin, regarding the question as a 
joke, replied that if it was necessary for him to die right 
there and then, he preferred taking a turn in the water. 
It was then that the stranger's eyes glared with maniacal 
frenzy ; he grappled with the now terrified Irwin. The 
struggle was a desperate one. The maniac was a power- 
ful man, and, with an iron grip, dragged the sportsman to 
the water's edge, when the struggle for life and death be- 
came even more desperate. Finally, they both fell into 
the water, and while floundering there, some men who 
stood at a short distance ran to the rescue, and were 
scarcely able to release the victim from the maniac's 
clutch. His clothes were nearly all torn from his body, 
and he was terribly bruised in the brief but fearful en- 



142 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

counter. Just about this time, a small steamer came up 
to the clock. It required four strong men to put the wild 
maniac on board. He was taken to Mayville and lodged 
in jail. He persistently refused to the last to give his 
name, declaring as a reason for his conduct that it was 
necessary to sacrifice some life to the consecration of the 
Sunday-school ground at that place; that he had been 
chosen as the instrument of death. He seemed to talk 
sanely about the matter, and regarded Mr. Irwin as an un- 
appreciative man, because, as he said, it was clearly in his 
power to shoot Irwin upon the spot ; whereas, he had 
given him his choice of death, and when about to yield 
preference, four worldly friends appeared upon the scene 
and interfered." 

Generally speaking, man is a selfish animal, a being 
controlled mainly by motives of self-interest. No person 
who has ever made human nature a study, or who at least 
has put his [knowledge into practice, will deny this posi- 
tion for one moment. It is the grand fundamental princi- 
ple in the science, and he who would find success in its 
study, will never lose sight of it. Kobert Burns well 
understood it when he said : — 

I'll no say nien are villains a' ; 

The real, hardened wicked, 

Wha ha' nae check but human law 

Are to a few restricked ; 

But, och ! mankind are unco weak, 

An' little to be trusted : 

If self the wavering balance sliake, 

IV s rarely right adjusted. 

This principle would seem to be so obvious, that no 
one, who has lived and dealt with this world, would for a 
moment doubt it. And yet there are some men who are 
clamorous against the doctrine, men, too, of learning and 
years, who claim that some portion, at least, of man's na- 
ture is of that unselfish, angelic, kind that places him, in 
the scale of beings, far above every other animal in cre- 
ation. But these are men, we greatly suspect, who have 
more years than experience, more learning than sense ; 
men who, perhaps, have studied more in the school-room 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 143 

than in the market-place, and who have read more in 
books than in the hearts of men. 

If we go to a man to engage him in our behalf, or to 
induce him to serve us, we must make something of an 
appeal to him ; we must have some argument to which we 
would call his attention. To ask a man for aid under any 
other conditions, would certainly indicate either that we 
had much to learn, or thought our auditor a fool. Every 
act done by a man, is done under one of two conditions, 
that of choice, or of necessity. We go to a man for help, 
and we ask of him a voluntary act. one that comes under 
the condition of choice, and then do we expect him to do 
something for us without having his motive or reason for 
it ? Oh, no : we have our reasons to give him. We say 
to him : — " We have always been a firm friend of yours ; 
we have done this for you, or that for you ; we have 
always been ready to serve you, and now it is our turn ; 
it so happens that you can do us a great favor, without 
putting yourself, perhaps, to any serious inconvenience, 
and we expect your help. ,, These things are not always. 
perhaps not generally, put forth, in this plain form ; it is 
often implied in the conversation, that he already knows 
what we have done for him, or how firmly attached we 
are to him. We do not always add, but he well under- 
stands that we have it at heart to say: — "You are in- 
debted to us, sir ; you owe us this favor, as one owes a 
debt to another ; to get along in this world of want and 
dependence, without incurring these mutual obligations 
and the necessity of canceling them, is utterly impossi- 
ble.'' Or it is added, expressed, or implied, possibly: — 
11 We have never rendered you any particular service, it 
may be true ;. we have never had an opportunity of 
doing so ; it so happens that our turn has come first to 
ask for help, and it is no worse for you to have made the 
first advances, than it would have been for us ; rest as- 
sured that what you do for us will come back to you, or 
to some friend of yours." Or we may give the appeal a 
different turn, and say to him: — " Every man has a direct 



144 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

interest in elevating his friends ; the higher we place 
them, or the better their condition, so much the more 
power and influence they will have, and that power and 
influence may some time hence be turned to our ac- 
count." 

But there are far stronger appeals than these, which go 
more or less indirectly to a man's selfishness. There is an 
argument which needs no answer, and admits of no reply. 
This applies when we say to a man : — " If you will help 
us to this place, or help us to attain this object, we will 
divide the spoils with you, or you will make so much out 
of it, or we will pay you so much for your work." Then 
we have an argument that is worth having. There is no 
resisting such appeals. Then we have a friend in truth, 
one that will stand by us, one that will be always on time, 
that will never desert us, never betray us (unless he can 
see where he can make more money elsewhere). We urge 
again, that the only safe, reliable, friends after all, are 
those who have a direct interest in helping us. We are 
sorry to say that other friends, as a general rule (there 
are some exceptions), are not to be trusted out of 
sight. When that interest ceases, our friend will dis- 
appear. We will search for him, and not find him ; 
knock, knock loud and long, and find the door closed 
upon us. 

And there are some silly fellows, young in years, or 
young in sense, who assume that Mr. Brown, or Mr. 
Smith, is going to do this for them, and that for them, 
and ten thousand other things ; but when we ask them 
the grounds of their bright hopes, they start with sur- 
prise, as much as to say: — u We never thought of that." 
There are men who seem to think that there are other 
good-hearted, simple old souls, who will help people 
along, from the mere love of the thing, who, perhaps, 
follow it as a business, and have nothing else to do. It 
has been our misfortune never to meet with any such 
generous people. If such a race ever did exist, it is now 
certainly extinct, with the exception, perhaps, of a few 



THE STUDY OF MAN 145 

stray individuals that have kept themselves out of reach 
of civilized man. 

There are other conditions under which we approach a 
man for aid. The conditions which we have already 
noticed, partake of a business nature ; both parties stand 
on equal terms, and the asker is not compromised by his 
asking. Sometimes a man goes to another for aid, and 
appeals to his sympathies, to his benevolence. Men will 
differ with us on this point, but we will give our opinion 
nevertheless. It is this, that aid rendered in these rare 
cases is given generally to gratify our selfishness. If it 
did not please us, if it did not gratify us, would we ever 
do any voluntary act ? And what act is more voluntary 
than one of benevolence and charity ? In many instances, 
it gratifies a man's pride, that he is so much above the 
suppliant as to be able to relieve him without feeling the 
loss himself. Sometimes it is done as a matter of neces- 
sity — some men feel that there is an absolute need, an 
obligation on the part of society, to protect the friendless 
from starvation, and save the helpless from ruin. Some 
men, aye, many men, give, in order to increase their popu- 
larity and spread abroad the report of their own good 
deeds. 

And we must notice, lastly, the services of men who 
are so intimately connected with us, or in some way so 
identified with our interests, that they necessarily partake 
more or less of the glory of our success and the shame 
of our misfortunes. Such men are our intimate friends, 
and particularly our relatives — more indirectly those who 
are connected with us by nativity, men who are associ- 
ated with us in business, or who are bound to us by some 
other tie. And here let us correct a most fatal error, that 
relatives are not so reliable friends as strangers. It is our 
opinion that, as a class, none are truer or firmer friends. 
They are, indeed, the only ones we can depend on in 
times of danger and distress. They are allied to us by. 
the strongest of ties, those of relationship. Their ances- 
tors are our ancestors; no matter how distant the con- 



146 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

nection, we are still branches of one and the same family ; 
our credit is their credit, our shame is their shame. 

By the way, we may remark generally that they alone 
in whom we are all interested, in whose success we rejoice, 
and at whose defeat we are grieved, are those who are in 
some way connected with us ; they are either our friends, 
our relatives, our townsmen, our scholars, our patrons, or 
those who in some way are ours. 



LOYE, HATE AND SELF-INTEREST. 

" Love thy neighbor as thyself/' We hear a great deal 
said about this doctrine, but we are free to say we should 
not wish to invest largely in the precept. And what we 
should like to find out is, who does ? Who loves his neigh- 
bor as himself, even though he may endorse the doc- 
trine ? Why, it is against nature ; it is in direct antagon- 
ism with the plainest and most unmistakable laws that 
Grod ever made. The most universal and the most forci- 
ble of all the natural laws is that of self-preservation. It 
is about all that any of us can do to take care of ourselves 
and provide for our own wants. If we loved our neigh- 
bor as ourselves, and consequently should do as much for 
him as for ourselves, we should find our hands full. Our 
fields would go uncultivated, our cattle go unfed, and 
even our homes would finally become desolate. If we all 
loved our neighbors as ourselves, there would be an end 
to all ambition, an absence of every impulse that would 
cause us to move forward. Selfishness can be, and gen- 
erally is, carried to extremes, but properly directed selfish- 
ness is one of the most useful, most natural and, we may 
add, most righteous principles of the human heart. 

Some people, more orthodox than even the holy Bible 

itself, carry this doctrine a step or two farther, and urge 

.us to love our enemies and bless them when they curse 

us. But we notice as a matter of fact that even ministers 

and church members do not love their enemies any better 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 147 

than other people do theirs. What we notice still further 
is. that God himself hates his enemies, always hated them, 
and hates them still — for proof of which, we ask people 
to peruse the Bible, beginning at Genesis and reading on 
to Revelations. It is nothing but hypocrisy and cant to 
talk about loving those who hate us, in this stage of the 
world. It is worse than absurdity — it is a fraud and a 
sham. Why, think of the doctrine carefully and candidly ! 
If we loved our enemies, and God loved his enemies, we 
should hate ourselves. Those that did us the most harm 
would be entitled to the most affection. Instead of pun- 
ishing robbers, and thieves, and murderers, and enemies 
of society generally, we should reward them for their in- 
iquity. And if God also loved his enemies, not a soul 
would be lost, and even the Devil himself would be 
brought up and reinstated in the place from which he was 
hurled headlong many years since. If we all loved our 
enemies, we should have no laws, for we would need none. 
Laws are made for no other purpose in the world than to 
protect us against our enemies. No, it is not amiss to hate 
our enemies, and what is more, to hate them heartily. It 
is not necessary to do them any harm, but it is well to be 
prepared to defend ourselves against them at all times. 
Moreover, a man who makes np difference between his 
enemies and his friends is not a man that, as the world 
goes now, is worth having in society anywhere. Enemies 
are good ; they have their part to perform. The world 
without enemies would not be worth having, but it will 
not answer to let them go on without a vigorous and con- 
tinued opposition 



PHASES IX THE CONDUCT OF MEN. 

The writings and public declarations of men very often 
do not agree with their every day history. Thus, Moliere 
who wrote many things both serious and comical, was a 
thouofhtful, sedate man. Manv men have written verv 



148 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

impure things, and yet have been exemplary enough in 
their lives. As examples, we might mention Bayle, 
Smollett, LaFontaine. Burton, who wrote the " Anatomy 
of Melancholy," as we read, was extremely facetious in 
conversation. Colton, who wrote Lacon, a book contain- 
ing much sound philosophy, was in the latter part of his 
life a professional gambler. He became a bankrupt, and 
finally blew out his own brains. If one might judge of 
Sterne only by what he wrote, he was a man of the most 
tender sensibilities. Yet the fact was, " he had too much 
sentiment to have any feeling," and his poor mother might 
have rotted in jail, where she had been placed for debts- 
contracted on account of an extravagant daughter, if she 
had found no other help than that of her f eelingless son. 

That a man may, as so often happens, say and do a great 
many silly things, and still write a most admirable book, 
is better illustrated in Groldsmith than in any other man. 
When his celebrated poem, "The Traveler," appeared, the 
club of which he was a member, and which might be sup- 
posed to know him best, could hardly be made to believe 
that this talkative, rattling, rambling, foolish Groldsmith, 
was really its author. " Well," exclaimed Chamier, one 
of the number, " I do believe he wrote the poem himself ; 
and let me tell you, that is believing a great deal." The 
best biography ever written was the work of a man who 
was always a bore and part of the time a fool. Macaulay 
says : — " If Boswell had not been a great fool, he would 
never have been a great writer." 

Byron began with affecting to despise money, and 
ended with affecting to love it. At first he would take 
nothing for his works, but finally his publishers could not 
pay him enough for his writings. This freak has been re- 
peated in many other men. But this was by no means 
Byron's only inconsistency. He was full of them. 

Of Pope we have the following record given by Ches- 
terfield: "He was as great an instance as any he quotes 
of the contrarieties and inconsistencies of human nature ; 
for, notwithstanding the malignity of his satires, and some 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 149 

blamable passages of his life, he was charitable to his 
power, active in doing good offices, and piously attentive 
to an old bed-ridden mother, who died but a little time be- 
fore him. His poor, crazy, deformed body was a mere 
Pandora box, containing all the physical ills that ever 
afflicted humanity. This, perhaps, whetted the edge of his 
satire, and may in some degree excuse it." 

Most men hang on to power once acquired with the 
grasp of a dying man, but Charles V., Emperor of Ger- 
many, while in possession of all the honors which can 
natter the heart of man, took the extraordinary resolution 
to resign his kingdoms and withdraw entirely to private 
life. Dioclesian is another example of a similar kind. 

It is really wonderful what love and devotion some of 
the hardest hearted criminals have been known to possess. 
Couthon, a monster in crime, fondled and carried with him 
in his bosom, even to the convention, a pet spaniel to 
which he seems to have given his whole heart. Marat, 
who would lop off a man's head with as much unconcern 
as he would the top of a poppy, was very fond of doves. 

What robberies, murders, and other crimes Cortez com- 
mitted during his twenty-one years in Mexico, and yet 
this monster of cruelty was, as he understood it, a very 
humane and pious man. After making a business of 
killing Indians almost up to the very last moment of his 
life, he yet left a clause in his will, directing his children 
to inquire into the matter, and ascertain, if possible, 
whether it was proper to hold Indians in slavery, a ques- 
tion he had studied seriously for a long time, and on 
which his mind was not settled at the time of his death. 

Few men would care for their honor, if, by violating it, 
they could save their lives, and yet there have been some 
instances where men have decided to keep their word, 
even though death stared them in the face in so doing. A 
case in point was brought to notice by Howard, the 
philanthropist. In Spain and Portugal, a custom pre- 
vailed of keeping prisoners in jail a long time before 
trial, and oftentimes still longer after sentence. But 



150 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

such was the regard this people were known to have for 
their word, that these condemned men were often let out 
on parole, to appear at the prison again when wanted. 
One man, who had been sentenced to death seven years 
before, and who for a long time had been out on parole, 
was suddenly ordered for execution. At that time, he 
was at home with his family, and working faithfully for 
their support. But he bade farewell to his wife, children 
and friends, and, after a weary journey, finally reached 
the jail, in obedience to the summons that called him. 
We are glad, however, to add that the government was 
struck by his remarkable fidelity, and he was finally par- 
doned and set free. 

To illustrate again the fact that different people will act 
very differently under the same circumstances, and that 
one hardly knows what to expect of some men, we give 
the following anecdote of Horace Greeley : A political 
bummer walked one day into his private office — so called, 
because the entire public had access to it — and handed 
him ten dollars, which he had borrowed from the journal- 
ist ten years before. " You don't mean it," said Greeley. 
"You must have mistaken your man." "No, I haven't. 
You lent me the money, and I promised you solemnly 
that I would return it." " That's the queerness of it," re- 
torted the journalist. " The idea of a man paying money, 
because he had solemnly promised to. If you had told 
me you would not pay it, I might have expected it. But 
I've been lending people money, who have solemnly 
promised to return it, for twenty years, and you are the 
first man who has ever disappointed me by keeping his 
word." 

It is a curious fact that men not only differ from each 
other, but they differ from themselves ; or, in other words, 
one man may not only differ very much from another man 
in the line of conduct which he may follow, but a man 
at one time may differ in his action quite as much 
from himself at another time. We find illustrations of 
this truth everywhere — among the young and the old, the 



THE STUDY OF MAK 151 

low and the high, the ignorant and the learned. Exam- 
ples among the eminent are quite as numerous, and quite 
as striking, as among those less distinguished, and as proof 
of this assertion, we notice the following : 

Sheridan, though a wretched spendthrift in his own 
matters, was strictly honest and extremely prudent in the 
management of public affairs. And so again, on the con- 
trary, we rind men strictly honest in their private business, 
but the veriest robbers when they come to be honored with 
public trusts. 

The manners of Sam Johnson were such as to give him 
the title of the Great Bear, but even he, with all his out- 
ward roughness, had a heart possessed of the most tender 
sensibilities. 

TTilliam the Conqueror, the pitiless warrior, and the 
stem and awful monarch, was a tender and faithful hus- 
band and an affectionate father; and, it is added, "he 
loved the wild deer as if he had been their father." And 
the great, gnarled, cross-grained and obstinate Luther, 
who would have fought the Devil as cheerfully as he 
would any common papist, had a heart as soft as a wo- 
man's heart, and he delighted in nothing more than in 
music and children, and the society of his beloved Katy. 

Nero, the famous emperor, murderer and villain, had 
some success in music and excelled as a charioteer. Pom- 
pey was called great, and really did some great things, 
but one writer speaks of him as " a weak, good man, whom 
accident had thrust into a place to which he was unequal." 
And what shall we say of such a man as Brutus ? Ac- 
cording to his own way of thinking, he was a very just 
and patriotic citizen, but no man was ever guilty of a 
baser act than he in conspiring to kill, and finally stabbing, 
his best friend and benefactor. As a traitor, even Judas' 
record has brighter pages than the history of Brutus. 
Judas, so far as we know, never made any great preten- 
sions to being much better than he was. There is Clodius, 
too, who had neither character nor talent, and yet he had 
a certain kind of tact that enabled him to rule the Roman 



152 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

mob for five full years. And what man, either little or 
great, ever had more sides than Cicero? As a man of 
talent, the world has as yet produced few men who were his 
equal, and few have presented in their characters a greater 
number of more striking weaknesses. He was brave to 
attack, but a coward in time of danger. His vanity and 
conceit are without parallel. He was humane and gener- 
ous, and yet mean, revengeful and selfish. His domestic 
history is not creditable. His policy is well set forth in 
his own words: — "We must "go with the times. Those 
who have played a great part in public life, have never 
been able to adhere to the same views on all occasions. 
The art of navigation lies in trimming to the storm. When 
you can reach your harbor by altering your course, it is a 
folly to persevere in struggling against the wind." As 
Froude expressed it, he was one of those who thought of 
himself first, and his duty afterwards, " the fatalest of all 
courses then and always." 

Sylla, apparently indolent, and the last man to cause 
apprehension, proved to be, when aroused, a most terrible 
antagonist. 

Of Alexander, of Eussia, Erince Metternich gives us this 
account: — " Alexander's character showed a peculiar mix- 
ture of masculine virtues and feminine weaknesses." 

"Cruel men," says Lacon, "are the greatest lovers of 
mercy, avaricious men of generosity, and proud men of 
humility — that is to say, in others, not themselves." 

Seneca, the disinterested usurer of seven millions, wrote 
on the subject of moderate desires upon a table of gold. 

To show what fools many great men were, in some 
things, especially matrimonial matters, we might instance 
Milton, Moliere, Addison, Steele, Eousseau, and a host of 
others. The choice they made was such as we might 
have expected from a brainless, love-sick boy. 

It is a common thing to find those who have been most 
persecuted becoming, with a favorable change of fortune, 
the very worst of persecutors themselves. Sir Thomas 
Moore is one example, and there are thousands more. 



TIIK STUDY OF MAN. L58 

Perhaps no character in history has a greater mixture 
of the greal and small than thai of Queen Elizabeth, 

She was, in the fullest sense of the term, the best of 

England's sovereigns, the ablesl and the most popular of 

all her rulers. Her talents were of the highest order; 

she had sense, prudence, foresight, Bagacity, genius, in- 
dustry and will. An<l yet, in Green's "History of the 
E jiish People," we find the following description of the 

other side of her character : — "Splendor and pleasure were 
with Elizabeth the very air she breathed. Her delight 

was to move in perpetual progresses from castle to castle, 
through a series of perpetual pageants, fanciful and ex- 
travagant as a caliph's dream. She loved gayety, and 
laughter, and wit. A happy retort, or a finished compli- 
ment, never failed to win her favor. She hoarded jewels. 
Her dresses were innumerable. Her vanity remained, 
even to old age, the vanity of a coquette in her teens. 
No adulation was too fulsome for her, no flattery of her 
beauty too gross. She would play with her rings, that 
her courtiers might note the delicacy of her hands ; or 
dance a coranto, that an ambassador, hidden dextrously 
behind a curtain, might report her sprightliness to his 
master. Her levity, her frivolous laughter, her un- 
womanly jests, gave color to a thousand scandals. Her 
character, in fact, like her portraits, was utterly without 
.shade. Of womanly reserve or self-restraint, she • knew 
nothing." 

Macaulay says the difference between the soaring angel 
and the creeping snake was but a type of the difference 
between Bacon, the philosopher, and Bacon, the attorney- 
general Those who survey only one-half of his charac- 
ter, may speak of him with unmixed admiration, or with 
unmixed contempt. . 

Eastings, if we consider his course in India, may be re- 
garded as one of the greatest villains England ever pro- 
duced, and yet there was a bright side to the darkened 
-character even of that man. This must be so, for he has 
a bust in Westminster Abbey, and the inscription on it 



154 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

gives him more virtues than fall to the lot of ordinary 
men. 

It seems to be a fact that indolent men are the most 
powerful of all, when thoroughly aroused. This was 
particularly true of Ney and Patrick Henry. Their latent 
energies were tremendous. 

Shelley, whose wife drowned herself on account of the 
ill-treatment she received from him, has been held up for 
execration as a monster of iniquity ; and yet, if we be- 
lieve others, who overlook his early faults, he was one of 
the purest, gentlest, and most lovable of men. 

Napoleon was a great general, and, in his day, was con- 
sidered a very respectable gentleman, to say the least. 
But here is the other side of the picture, as drawn by 
Emerson : — " He was thoroughly unscrupulous. He 
would steal, slander, assassinate, drown, and poison, as 
his interest dictated. He had no generosity ; but mere 
vulgar hatred ; he was intensely selfish ; he was perfidi- 
ous ; he cheated at cards ; he was a prodigious gossip and 
opened letters, and delighted in his infamous police ; and 
rubbed his hands with joy when he had intercepted some- 
morsel of intelligence concerning the men and women 
about him, boasting that 'he knew everything,' and inter- 
fered with the cutting of the dresses of the women. His 
manners were coarse. He treated women with low famili- 
arity." And the worst thing about this picture is, that it 
is true. 

In the history of crime, there is hardly anything that 
exactly compares with the murder of Dr. Parkman by 
Dr. Webster, in Boston, November, 1849. Parkman was. 
a man of wealth and high standing, and Webster was pro- 
fessor of chemistry at the Massachusetts Medical College. 
As a man, Dr. Webster always bore an excellent reputa- 
tion, and the position of himself and his family in society 
was among the very best. And yet this man, possessed 
of both culture and distinction, murdered his friend and 
neighbor, Dr. Parkman. How deliberately the foul deed 
was done, or how far it w^as premeditated, was never 



nil-: ST1 D1 OP MAN. L55 

known. Webster owed Parkman a sum of money, and 
the Latter called upon him al the institution to collect his 
debt Thai was the hist he was ever seen alive, A re- 
ward of $3,000 was offered to ascertain his fate, or his 
whereabouts, if alive The truth was finally discovered 
by Lattlefield, the janitor of thecollege. Be had uoticed 
that Webster remained in his labratory much Longer than 
usual, that the door was kept Locked, and that a terribly 
hot fire was kept going. Somedaya after tin' tragedy, 
when Webster had gone home, he crawled under the 
building, examined the privy vault, and there found some 
of the bones of a human being. This led to a search of 
the laboratory, where moreof the remains were found. He 
had destroyed much of the body byfire,but theslowwork 
had not been completed. The identity was ascertained 
chiefly through a set of false teeth known to be Parkman's. 
Webster was arrested, tried, condemned, and alter some 
delay, executed. Neither money nor influence could save 
him. Before he was hung, he confessed the crime. The 
greatest sufferers, as in all such cases, were his family. 
They soon left the city, but the memory of the unfortu- 
nate husband and father could not he banished for a mo- 
ment. It was not many years after, that both wife and 
daughter died, one after the other, broken-hearted. We 
conclude this sad history by remarking that it is impossi- 
ble ever to decide with certainty what any man will do, 
by knowing his education, his history, his habits, or his 
position hi society. The best of men often become pos- 
- ed of insane ideas, and the most upright are sometimes 
induced to commit the very 1 thickest of crimes. 

Lord Palmerston, a high-toned and noble gentleman, 

stood for a long time at the head of the English nation. 
His private characterwas unassailable, and even his public 

life was without stain. But as a representative English- 
man, as a man who had a country to protect and a nation's 
honor to defend, he followed a line of policy that was cer- 
tainly neither just nor generous. To he truly English 
with him was to do many things for the public that no 



156 PEACTICAL LIFE AND 

true Englishman in his private affairs would be guilty of 
doing. Justin McCarthy, in speaking of Palmerston and 
his ideas of what was truly English, says : — " A stranger 
might have asked in wonder at one time whether it was 
un-English to be just, to be merciful, to have considera- 
tion for the claims and rights of others, to admit that there 
was any higher object in a nation's life than a diplomatic 
success. All that would have made a man odious and in- 
sufferable in private life was apparently held up as belong- 
ing to the virtues of the English nation." 

As we often find freaks and traits in the old that we 
would rather expect to find in the young, so we occasion- 
ally find in the young dispositions and developments that 
we would expect to see only in people of mature years. 
The most remarkable example of this kind is that fur- 
nished by a Russian boy of the age of nine years. His 
father, to whom he was greatly devoted, had died, and his 
mother soon forgot her deceased husband and received the 
attentions of a paramour. Thinking the boy too young 
to notice such improprieties, she was more bold in her con- 
duct than she might have been if her son had been older. 
But young as he was, he seems to have felt the dishonor 
and the wrong done his father most keenly. He finally- 
remonstrated with his mother, and begged her to treat the 
memory of the dead father with the respect that was due 
to one so noble and true. But his appeals were only 
laughed at, and matters went on as before. Strange as it 
may seem, this young lad resolved to murder his mother 
and wipe out the stain that thus disgraced the family name. 
With the courage and will of a full-grown man, he pre- 
pared for the awful undertaking. : He first dug his mother's 
grave, which, for his tiny hands, was a long and tedious 
work to perform. Then he procured a hatchet, and one 
night stole into his mother's bedroom to carry out his ter- 
rible purpose. But at the sight of the face of his dear 
mother, his little heart failed him. He dropped down 
upon his knees to pray, and falling asleep, was found, with 
the hatchet in his hand, by his mother in the morning. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 157 

Of course she was frightened and could not understand 
what it meant. But the lad made some explanation, and 
telling some peasant fable, calmed his mother's fears. 
Again he introduced the subject of her misdoings and 
begged her to turn away from the course which was caus- 
ing him so much pain ; but his answer was a rebuff, and 
matters went on as usual. The following night he en- 
tered her room again, with a stronger heart than before, 
and finding his mother asleep, with one blow of the 
hatchet, sent her unprepared to eternity. The body he 
afterwards dragged to the grave he had made, and there 
he interred it. The boy was arrested, tried, and ably de- 
fended, the case exciting greater interest than any other 
criminal case Eussia had ever known. The precise result 
of this trial we never learned, but that the punishment 
was light, if any, we feel confident. 



SELFISHNESS. 

Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee ; 

Corruption wins not more than honesty. 

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 

To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not. 

Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's, 

Thy God's, and truth's. 

Selfishness is well enough, if it be enlightened selfish- 
ness. But selfishness which builds itself up by destroy- 
ing everything around it, cannot be called enlightened. 
It destroys the very substance out of which it ought to 
live, and by which it ought to thrive. All men are de- 
pendent, not independent. Their existence implies the 
existence of others. Life would not be worth living, if 
we had to pass all of it in solitude. We have a direct 
interest in the advancement and prosperity of the com- 
munity in which we live. 

Know, Nature's children all divide her care ; 
The fur that warms a monarch, warmed a bear. 
While man exclaims : " See all things for my use ! " 



158 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

" See man for mine ! " replies a pampered goose. 
And just as short of reason he must fall, 
Who thinks all made for one, not one for all. 

But, as is well known, selfishness, or self-love, which is- 
about the same thing, is not always wisely, or even rea- 
sonably, directed. It happens that the supremely selfish 
too often kill the hen that lays the golden egg. Or they 
are like the colored man who had purchased a new hat 
which he prized very highly. When it rained, he took it 
off and protected it carefully by putting it under his coat. 
On being remonstrated with for his supposed stupidity in 
thus saving his hat at the expense of his head, he 
promptly explained that the hat belonged to himself, 
while the head belonged to his master. And so it goes 
with thousands of people who have had much better ad- 
vantages for becoming wise than this poor negro. They 
are always ready to save what is their own, and sacrifice 
what belongs to somebody else — even if they die by it. 

Of all they do, the greater part is done to gratify some 
taste or resentment, to satisfy some want, advance some 
fancied interest, or promote some cherished object. In 
the words of Colton : — " The most notorious swindler has 
not assumed so many names as self-love, nor is so much 
ashamed of his own. She calls herself patriotism, when 
at the same time she is rejoicing at just as much calamity 
to her native country as will introduce herself into power 
and expel her rivals. Dodclington, who may be con- 
sidered one of her darling sons, confesses in his ' Diary T 
that the source of all opposition is resentment, or interest,. 
a resolution to pull down those who have offended us, 
without considering consequences ; a steady and unvary- 
ing attention to propose everything that is specious but 
impracticable ; to depreciate everything that is blameless ; 
to exaggerate everything that is blameable, until the peo- 
ple desire, and the crown consents, to dismiss those that 
are in office, and to admit those that are out." This is 
politics and policy the world over, and as much so in 
America as in any country on the globe. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 159 

''When happy," said a great Emperor, "I thought I 
knew men ; but I was destined only to know them in 
misfortune." To call this a cold and unfriendly world, 
without any qualifications or conditions, might seem like 
exaggeration ; but we are willing to affirm that it means 
that every man shall take care of himself. "When a 
young man," says an American writer, " has thoroughly 
comprehended the fact that he knows nothing, and that, in- 
trinsically, he is of but little value, the next thing for 
him to learn is, that the world cares nothing for him, that 
he is the subject of no man's esteem, and that he must 
take care of himself." Say what we choose about the 
liberality and generosity of particular individuals,, man 1 
kind in the aggregate are pre-eminently selfish. Like 
children, they seek chiefly their own gratification, and 
they find neither the time nor the inclination to look after 
the wants or necessities of anybody else. 



POWER 



Power has its uses and aji vantages, but these are more 
limited in their scope and smaller in number than people 
commonly suppose. If every man we met were subject 
to our will, we doubt very much whether we should be 
any happier or any better satisfied than we are now. If 
every man around us were our willing slave, we are not 
able to see how that would improve our prospects or bet- 
ter our condition in the least. It is much better to be 
loved than to be feared. 

Power rarely lies exactly where we imagine it lies. A 
man may be a sovereign, and still some one behind the 
throne may exercise all the authority. " A mistress may 
rule a monarch, but some obscure favorite may rule the 
mistress. " — Lacon. 

The helplessness of even powerful men is a very notice- 
able fact. There are but few things that even the might- 
iest sovereign can do. They are subject to limitations 



160 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

like other men ; there are some things which are possible 
for them, and still more things that are absolutely impos- 
sible. As to miseries and misfortunes, their share has been 
greatly in excess of that of other men ; and for all their 
toils and pains, they receive but a small and unsatisfactory 
reward. 

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. 
Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
An outward honor for an inward toil, 
And for unfelt imaginations 
They only feel a world of restless cares : 
So that between their titles and low name 
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. 

Kings are undoubtedly, as a class, the most unhappy of 
all mortals. " The Emperor Alexander, of Eussia," to 
quote the words of Prince Metternich, "died of weariness 
of life. Seeing himself deceived in all his calculations, 
under the necessity of himself striking at a class of his 
own subjects who had been led astray and instigated by 
men and principles whom he himself had long supported, 
his heart broke, and the events which clouded the acces- 
sion of his successor remained a proof of the troubles 
which embittered the last moments of Alexander. " Queen 
Elizabeth was the most powerful, and in a certain sense, 
the most popular sovereign England ever had, but still the 
greatest gloom hung over her last days. She was deceived 
by those who belonged to her court, and abandoned by 
those whom she had admired and enriched. The people 
who so long had applauded her as she passed, were now 
cold and silent. The "temper of the age" was changing, 
while Elizabeth remained the same. Death finally came 
to her relief, but perhaps the meanest subject in her realm 
never died more miserably than this once magnificent 
queen. "Gradually her mind gave way. She lost her 
memory, the violence of her temper became unbearable. 
She called for a sword to lie constantly by her side, and 
thrust it from time to time through the arras, as if she 
heard murderers stirring there. Food and rest became 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 161 

alike distasteful. She sat day and night propped up with 
pillows on a stool, her finger on her lip, her eyes fixed on 
the floor, without a word." " To know the pains of power, 
go to those who have it ; to know its pleasures, we must 
go to those who are seeking it ; the pains of power are real, 
the pleasures imaginary." — Lacon. 

And still it is a melancholy fact, that what men worship 
above all other things is power. "We saw this particularly 
in the case of Senator Conkling. So long as he was Sen- 
ator, so long as he had patronage at his command, the 
ability to reward his friends and the power to punish his 
enemies, he made an imposing figure in the eyes of the 
people. But the very moment that he decided to step 
down and out, the whole scene changed, and Eoscoe Conk- 
ling became and was the same as other men. Would the 
polished Greeks and Eomans ever have worshiped such 
rough and .unattractive old fellows as Vulcan, Pluto and 
Neptune, and even the burly old Jupiter himself, if it had 
not been for the power which they were supposed to pos- 
sess? 

Power is always exacting and generally despotic and 
arbitrary. When men have the power to accomplish their 
ends, they care very little about the means by which the 
results are obtained. Calamy, the celebrated Presbyterian 
minister, on one occasion objected to Cromwell's assuming 
the supreme power as protector, as being, in his opinion, 
both unlawful and impracticable. Cromwell remarked 
frankly enough that he cared little about the lawfulness, 
" but why," said he, " is it impracticable ? " " Oh," replied 
the divine, "it is impracticable, inasmuch as it is against 
the voice of the people ; you will have nine out of ten 
against you." "But, what if I should disarm the nine, 
and put the sword in the tenth man's hands, wouldn't that 
do the business?" Of course this plan succeeded, and 
this is a fair illustration of the way men always reason, 
when they have the power to do as they please. 

Power is very often a disadvantage to its possessor. 
Those who have much are expected to do much, and 



162 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

the t v are often called upon to perform some service that, 
with all their ability, they find it impossible to ren- 
der. Men who are powerful are always feared, and gen- 
erally hated. It is to the interest of the weaker to com- 
bine where they can, and put the stronger out of the way. 
Hence it is that the weak and incompetent so often rise, 
while the abler and more deserving are neglected or cast 
aside. It must not be forgotten that "for one man who 
sincerely pities our misfortunes, there are a thousand who 
sincerely hate our success." 

"Lawful rule and sovereignty," said Solon, "are indeed 
fine offices and splendid situations ; but he who occupies 
them is on every side surrounded by precipices, and when a 
man has once entered upon them there is no possibility of 
escaping." 

And it will be noticed that the rule even of the most 
powerful lasts but for a brief spell. Alexander died at 
30, and Caesar at 56. Napoleon lived to be 52, but his 
career practically ended at Waterloo, at the age of 46. 

But there is another and a different view of the matter 
to be taken. We are often amazed at the power developed 
by one man, at the stupendous results which Providence 
brings out through the simplest and most unimportant 
agencies. One man may at certain periods in the history 
of the world, represent in himself the combined energies 
of a nation. Luther alone gave direction and force to a 
movement which, without him, or some one like him, 
would have vanished into nothingness. He did not oroi- 
nate, it is true, the leading ideas of the Reformation : they 
were in the minds of strong men long before the appear- 
ance of Luther as a conspicuous figure. What he did, was 
to take those thoughts which had arisen in the minds of 
other men and vitalize, clevelope and advance them. By 
the power of this plain and humble monk, the authority 
of the Pope, which before had been apparently as stable 
as the pyramids, was made to crumble and give way, like 
the walls of some dilapitated fortress. Xapoleon, a mere 
"boy, without friends and without influence to aid him, 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 163 

rose from the rank of a sub-lieutenant and became Emperor 
of France. A whole nation of intelligent, enlightened 
men thought, breathed and moved through him. His word 
was law, and his will and the will of the people became 
identical. The world has never jet produced any mightier 
agency than that existing in this one man. And yet he 
was only a man — in many respects the most ordinary kind 
of a man. 

Bacon, a man with a genius that perhaps has never yet 
been equaled b}' that of any other mortal, put a new 
phase upon the whole of science, and gave to the minds 
of reflecting people a direction they had never had before. 
Alfred the Great and Cromwell are other notable instances 
of one-man power. Peter the Great, of Russia, revolu- 
tionized, in a quiet way, the style of living and manner of 
thinking throughout all of his native country. Before his 
time Russia was little more than a land of barbarians. 
He introduced science and art, and gave his countrymen 
mi impulse that moves them even to this day. 

Is it any wonder that some men, who have seemed to 
have the power of gods, should have been looked upon as 
being gods? For a people with devotional tendencies, 
Ave think it was the most natural thing in the world that 
the Greeks and Romans should have bowed down before 
Alexander and Caesar as they would before deities. If 
there ever were such a thing as omnipotence, did they not 
very nearly approach it? Was there anything, in the 
days of their glory, that seemed impossible for them to 
achieve? If there is but one step between the sublime 
and the ridiculous, there is a still shorter step between 
God and a great man. 

But no man is so great that he does not feel the need of 
other great men to aid and support him. " I have three 
hundred millions in my coffers in the Tuileries," said Na- 
poleon, of the marshal whom he left to cover his retreat 
from Moscow, "and I would have given all of them will- 
ingly to save Marshal Ney." He considered Massena, 
another marshal, equivalent to 6,000 men. Another, the 



164 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

brave Macdonald, saved Napoleon and his army at Warsaw. 
His bold and skillful charge in that battle checked, as it 
were, the wheels of destiny and gave a new turn to 
affairs. 



ENVY AND JEALOUSY. 

It is sometimes said that envy is the mark of a small 
mind, but certain it is, envy is by no means confined to 
small minds. Envy, or jealousy, has been remarkably 
prominent in the characters of some very eminent men. 
They seem to have imagined that they could not be seen 
clearly unless they demolished everything around them. 
This feeling is the most active and most noticeable among 
men of the same pursuits. "I will admit," said Hogarth, 
" all the world to be competent judges of my pictures, 
excepting those of my profession.'' Men, to judge fairly, 
must not only be unprejudiced, they must also be dis- 
interested. Men in the same business always have oppos- 
ing interests, and consequently having jealous feelings, we 
must expect from them unfair criticisms. There is per- 
haps as much jealousy among literary men as among any 
other class. Plato never mentions Xenophon, and Xeno- 
phon, to be even with his enemy, inveighs against Plato. 
Voltaire affected to despise both Corneille and Eacine. 
Addison, we are told, was very jealous of his rivals. Men 
who are studying the same subjects have no sympathy or 
patience with each other, when they happen to differ. 
Each is sure the other must be wrong, w T hile he himself 
alone is right. 

" Envy," to quote Mr. Colton, " if surrounded on all 
sides by the brightness of any other's prosperity, like the 
scorpion, confined within a circle of fire, will sting itself 
to death." Another writer says : — " Envy is fixed only 
on merit, and like a sore eye, is offended with everything 
that is bright." Envy is a painful feeling, and never 
serves its possessor in any other way than ill. How- 



THE STUDY OF MAN 165 

ever, jealousy, as it exhibits itself among rivals, often 
does the public some good. If it were not for jealousies 
between rivals, parties and States would often become too 
strong, and being strong, would trample upon all right 
and justice. 



AYAKICE. 



Avarice is a curious, painful and incurable constitu- 
tional disease. It destroys happiness, increases pain, and 
poisons life. It is the most unreasonable and the most 
harm-producing of all the desires of the heart. " To 
make money — money by any means, lawful or unlaw- 
ful — became the universal passion." This was said of 
Rome many centuries since, but it is equally true of 
America, and other countries, to-day. People have a ter- 
rible mania for accumulating property. They do not 
reason, they do not think, they do not stop to inquire 
what it is all for. They simply go on pinching, saving, 
toiling, suffering, cheating, shaving, heaping, hiding, till 
death comes and removes them to an asylum from which 
there is no return, and where gold and silver have no 
value. " Money, the cry was still money — money was 
the one thought, from the highest senator to the poorest 
wretch who sold his votes in the Comitia," says Froude, 
in his life of Csesar. How often has this picture been re- 
painted and reproduced since ! Rome died of excessive 
avarice. She grasped power she could not hold, and 
seized provinces she could not govern ; and America, we 
are pained to say, is following in the steps of her pre- 
decessor. We are inclined to agree with Colton, when he 
says: — "Avarice has ruined more men than prodigality, 
and the blindest thoughtlessness of expenditure has not 
destroyed so many fortunes as the calculating, but in- 
satiable, lust of accumulation." We also agree with the 
Aborigines of this country. With them, a wish for 
wealth is considered unworthy of a brave man, and their 
leading chiefs are often the poorest of the tribe. 



166 PKACTICAL LIFE AND 

" accursed thirst for gold, what crimes dost thou not 
compel man to commit ! " Avarice generates selfishness, 
and lets it grow till it becomes a monster. Avarice leads 
to bribery, knavery, venality, cheating, stealing, and 
even the crime of murder itself. It leads to the repudi- 
ation of honest debts by States, as well as individuals, for 
it is in the power of corporate bodies to be meaner and 
more dishonest than any one of the members of which 
they are composed. 



THE CUEEEXT. 



People usually wish to be on the winning side. It is 
found much more pleasant to be with strong numbers 
than weak ones. People like to ride with the current, 
rather than against it. No man takes any particular delight 
in rowing against the tide. 

Again, there are thousands who have no other opinion 
than what they gather from the popular voice. They 
watch the tide and endeavor to rise with it. They natu- 
rally infer that where the crowd goes, there everybody 
ought to go. They imagine that what everybody buys, 
or everybody wants, must, in the very nature of things, be 
eminently desirable. 

There is a current in the minds of men sometimes that 
cannot be resisted. Masses of men are at times impressed 
with some new idea, and are moved by some new and 
strange impulse. When this happens, there is scarcely 
any impediment they will not overcome, scarcely 'any 
bulwark the}" will not dash against and tear down, if 
they can. When we find masses of men carried away 
with such ideas, and moving along in a certain direction, 
or in a certain current, the only thing we can do is to 
wait till the tide again ebbs, as it certainly will in due 
time. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 167 

FASHION. 

No man can afford to run counter to the prevailing 
opinions of the world. We must always have a due 
regard for the tastes, customs and sentiments of those with 
whom we associate. Where there is no important princi- 
ple involved, it is better to ride with the current than 
against it. Men may be wrong, they may even be whim- 
sical and eccentric, but they have just as good a right to 
their oddities as we have to our most reasonable convic- 
tions. 

The rules of society are laws which we cannot violate 
with any more impunity than Ave can the laws on our 
statute books. Though unwritten as they are, they are 
laws nevertheless, and laws that must be obeyed. They 
are often founded on whims, but so are many other laws 
founded on whims. 



OUE WANTS. 



Why do not people stop to consider how much better 
it would be to use what they have, than to buy what they 
do not want ? Many buy new books, when the shelves 
of their ample book-case are loaded with volumes they 
have never read. 

What a man wants is what he can use ; but what one 
man can use, differs very little in quantity from what 
another can use. The margin between the rich and the 
poor man in this respect is much narrower than most peo- 
ple suppose. The rich man gets more than the poor man, 
but he wastes the surplus — he does not and cannot use it. 
It takes no more to fill the stomach and warm the back of 
the former than the latter, and when they come to die, 
they both fill about the same sized cavity in the grave- 
yard. 

When we think we want a thing, it is better to put it 
off for a while, and, ten chances to one, we will finally 
change our mind. 



168 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

It is a good rule for every one to observe, never to de- 
sire what he does not need, and never to want what he 
could not get, or what he could not use, if he got it. It 
is a still better rule, not to seek that which would not be 
good for him to have, if it were obtained. 



ENEMIES. 



No positive man, with a mind of his own, and a dis- 
position to speak it, can expect to get along through the 
world without enemies. It is very pleasant to have 
friends, but to have enemies is unavoidable. Where 
there are so many conflicting interests, so many causes 
for hate and envy, men who move out of their orbits, 
must expect to have enemies. He who expects to glide 
along through this world smoothly, is a simpleton. Men 
have to fight for their places. If they go up, somebody 
else must go down. If a man says nothing, does nothing, 
is nothing, no one will complain. But let him try and 
assert his manhood, let him try to rise up and be some- 
body, and he will find scores of men ready to confront 
him and dispute his passage. 

It is impossible for any one to please everybody. What 
delights one man, usually disgusts another. It is easy to 
find fault, when one sets his heart upon doing so. It re- 
quires no more effort to grumble than it does to breathe. 
The Athenians disliked Alcibiades for his enterprise, and 
Mcias for his riches. One man voted against Aristides, 
because he disliked to hear him called "the Just" 

What is most surprising is the number of enemies men 
find among those they have never harmed. If we have 
crossed a man, or injured him in any way, we do not 
wonder at his resentment or his opposition ; but when we 
see that his enmity is unfounded, or at least is based 
upon false or imaginary reasons, we cannot help feeling 
somewhat amazed at his willfulness or his folly. 

Some men hate us for injuries which they fancy they 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 169 

have suffered at our hands ; some from motives of jeal- 
ousy, or opposing interests ; some, because they hate 
everybody, even themselves ; some, because they do not 
fancy our looks, or admire our manners ; some, because 
they dislike our religion, our politics, or our philosophy ; 
sonic, because we have enemies who are their friends, or 
friends who are their enemies, and so on with a hundred 
other reasons equally foolish and unsound. 

Men hate everybody whose character and habits differ 
from their own, for what people like best of all things is 
the reflection of their own dear selves. They also hate 
men who are like themselves, or at least who are pursuing 
the same object. They dislike men who stand in their 
way. or who may interfere with their plans or oppose 
their projects. 

Too many grown people are like the spoiled child. 
They want their own way, and are angry if their whims 
and wishes are not gratified. They want every one to 
think as they do, believe as they do, and do as they do. 
Every man who differs from them is necessarily either a 
fool, a madman, or a knave. 

On the other hand, men like those who like them, or, 
at least, those who are ready and able to serve them, for' 
love, as well as hate, is based largely upon our selfishness. 

But, as a rule, no man's Mends can do so much for 
him as his enemies. It often occurs that a man's enemies 
are his greatest benefactors, and there is often much force 
in the thought: — ''Deliver us from our friends." An- 
tagonism strengthens a man ; there is nothing more 
sinewy than the mountain oak that has withstood the 
winters blast for a century or more. The American peo- 
ple are all the wiser and stronger for their early struggles 
with poverty and the Indians. A man sometimes ap- 
pears victorious, when he is really beaten. "A few more 
such victories, and we are undone." "Walpole took away 
Pitt's commission, and thought to annihilate him, but it 
really made Pitt a popular man. 



170 PEACTICAL LIFE AND 



THINKING. 



"Think wrong, and welcome," said Lessing ; "but 
think." Most people do not know how to think, and of 
those who do know, many will not pnt themselves to that 
trouble. But it is worth any man's while to learn to con- 
centrate his whole mind upon that which is useful and impor- 
tant. The great gifts of Caesar and Napoleon were this 
very power of concentration. Almost every thing of any 
moment that has ever been done in this world by man has 
been effected by calm, patient, and earnest reflection, — 
very little by accident. If we will not think, we shall not 
have valuable thoughts. Ideas rarely come, unless we 
are prepared to receive them. All thoughts are valuable, 
only some are more valuable than others. Who shall 
estimate the price of a good thought, the value of a noble 
resolution ? Thoughts are God's own inspirations ; firm 
resolves are works half accomplished. 

No man should ever undertake any enterprise before he 
has examined it in all its phases ; he should keep it re- 
volving in his mind, and he will be sure in the end to 
detect things that had before escaped his observation. 
Reflection is cheap and pleasant ; but it often supplies us 
with the most invaluable facts. 

Thinking is good, but thinking of itself never did any- 
thing. Thinking is not doing. If a man only thought, 
and imagined, and conceived, and hoped, nothing could 
ever be accomplished. Long before the Atlantic cable 
was laid, people thought or suspected, some certainly did, 
that such a thing was possible. But they never did it — 
they never even attempted to do it. It is to the ever- 
lasting credit of Cyrus Field that he not- only thought 
and believed it possible, but actually set about it, and 
persisted till the great result was accomplished. So it was 
in the case of Columbus, and Robert Fulton, and Benja- 
min Franklin, and hundreds of other discoverers and 
inventors that we might name. 

Thinking and theorizing at best may be wrong. There 



THE STUDY OF MAW. 171 

is nothing that serves so well to demonstrate a fact as the 
actual experiment. Many very able men predicted that, 
as a matter of certainty, steamships could never cross the 
ocean. But steamships do cross the ocean, even in 
great numbers. Many great men predicted that the Suez 
canal must, in the very nature of things, be a failure. 
Yet in due time the Suez canal was built, and has now 
become a wonderful success. Thinking has its uses, but 
it can never do the work that belongs to actual experi- 
ment. 

We might remark in conclusion, that thoughts come to 
us, they cannot be mastered. The wisest and best thoughts 
a man ever had, came without seeking. Instinct is far 
more unerring than reason. The birds and the bees are 
wiser in their way than king Solomon ever was. In fact, 
many of our great men were guided by instinct more than 
reason. They saw things, they knew not why or how — 
but they saw them, and upon what they saw, they based 
their action. Napoleon will afford a striking instance of 
this kind. Very little that he did would stand the test of 
reason, and yet he met with unparalleled success. 



SELECT SENTIMENTS. 

As a rule, people who speak several languages fluently, 
cannot speak their own correctly. 

We can sometimes tell what one man will do, but no one 
can decide beforehand what will be clone by a hundred 
men. 

There never was a rule without numberless exceptions. 
There never was a proposition which at best was more 
than qualifiedly true. 

A man is a fool, and a very silly fool at that, who puts 
himself unnecessarily in the power of any one, even though 
that one be his best friend. 



172 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

" The wisest man will occasionally do a weak thing ; the 
most honest man a wrong thing ; the proudest man a mean 
thing, and the worst of men will sometimes do a good 
thing." 

Success makes all the difference in the world with men. 
The main point of contrast between Robert E. Loe and 
Ulysses S. Grant, was that the one failed while the other 
succeeded. 

What is the use of man's studying and striving to be 
wise, when the humble and simple bee that is anxious 
about nothing but its own work, is in so many things 
wiser than man ? 

Do not dwell too long upon the unkind and severe 
words of others. They are often the mere unconsidered 
expressions of ill feelings, which generally cannot be con- 
trolled, and which, fortunately, seldom last. 

When Martin Luther died, he left behind him, as his 
will shows, " no ready money, no treasure of coin of any 
description, 1 ' and }^et he stands higher in the esteem of 
men to-day than any king or emperor of Europe. 

There is a great amount of truth in this world, but in 
the substratum of men's lives there is more lie than is 
generally believed. Fiction records ten great triumphs, 
and falsehood ten great actions, where truth records only 
one. 

We would trust an individual sooner than we would a 
town. We would trust one man before we would fifty ; 
for fifty, or a hundred men, will do what one man alone 
would never dare to do. Witness, for instance, public 
repudiation. 

The great success of designing men consists in doing- 
one thing, while they seem to be doing something differ- 
ent. Nobody would allow his pocket to be picked, if he 
supposed for a moment that the thief was doing anything 
of that kind. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 173 

There is no easier or better way to make money than by 
saving it. Is a dollar saved worth less in any respect than 
a dollar earned ? There are two roads to wealth — one by 
.saving much, and the other by getting much, and the for- 
mer is at least as safe as the latter. 

Sympathy is like sound — the farther it travels, the 
weaker it becomes. We have a tremendous sympathy for 
a poor man in our own town, or in our own household ; 
but if he lives in France, or Greece, or Africa, perhaps, he 
may be a poor man, and be hanged, for all we care. 

Money is the exact measure of the labor, anxiety and 
.suffering it costs to acquire it. Hence, money is not to 
be idly or unnecessarily thrown away. Ordinarily, the 
expenditure of $1,000 means a whole year's labor, with 
-all its accompanying weariness of body and trouble of 
mind. 

The price a man pays for being too selfish, is to have 
implacable enemies and indifferent friends. Even those 
who are allied to him, either from motives of interest or 
irom necessity, will desert him at the first favorable oppor- 
tunity. This Napoleon found in his days of disaster and 
.sorrow. 

Treachery is never profitable. The fate of Judas and 
Benedict Arnold has been repeated a thousand times in 
the history of this world. The man who betrays the con- 
fidence that others repose in him is detested as a villain 
by all mankind. Even those who profit by treachery 
naturally abhor the traitor. 

People want everybody else to do as they do. They 
want others to believe as they do, and think as they do. 
They are never really satisfied unless everybody belongs 
to their church and their party. They are perpetually 
urging others to try the medicines which they have tried, 
and secure the remedies which have proved so efficacious 
in their case. 

All men are presumed to know the law, but the fact is, 



174 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

a man never knows till lie gets to the end of a law suit, 
what the law really requires of him. And even then he is 
occasionally disappointed. The lawyers and judges often 
get confused, and when they do, they leave the question 
to be settled by twelve untutored jurymen, who do not 
pretend to know even the first elements of law. It has 
been well said that wise men open or present the case, and 
fools decide it. 

Men count in this world according to what they do. It 
is not the biggest people who make the most stir. The 
hungry tiger is a far more terrible enemy to encounter 
than the unwieldy elephant. Large bodies crush with 
their weight, but it is not difficult to evade them. Greece 
has a larger place in history than the whole Asiatic conti- 
nent. Great Britain, with its small islands, is the richest, 
and, in inherent strength, the most powerful country on 
the globe. It is energy that tells. 

Good housekeeping has as much to do with a man's 
character and success in life as anything in the world. If 
things go badly with a man at home, they will go badly 
with him everywhere. At home a man expects to live and 
enjoy life, and how he lives there, and how he fares, is of 
the utmost importance to him. If things are orderly and 
pleasant at home, a man will show it in his business ; and 
if they are not, he will show that also. A woman's sphere 
in life may generally be a humble one, but her influence 
upon this world's destiny is more than many people 
imagine. 

Things appear different to the same person at different 
times. Even the hills that we gaze upon looked very 
difierent in the days of our youth. A road seems shorter 
the oftener we travel it. Things that appeared frightful 
yesterday, appear humble enough to our eyes to-day. 
The following fable well illustrates this principle: — "A 
fox that had never seen a lion, when by chance she met a 
lion one day, was so frightened that she almost died with 
fear. But having seen him at another time, she was 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 175 

indeed frightened, but by no means as before. However, 
meeting the lion a third time, she dared to come nearer 
and even speak to him." 

The reason wiry people want this or that thing, is gen- 
erally because it is difficult or impossible to be obtained. 
They want it because they see others wanting it. In many 
cases, however, they do not so much as stop to consider 
whether they really want it or not. This is especially true 
of men who seek or accept public offices. They see others 
scrambling for them, and forthwith they join the crowd 
and become as eager as the wildest of the place-hunters. 
Sometimes they succeed, and then they begin to see how 
foolish they have acted, and how much better it would 
have been if they had only attended to their legitimate 
calling, and gone about their business like sensible and 
intelligent men. 

AY hat men were, they are, and what they are, they 
were. It is absolutely certain that human nature has not 
materially changed in 4,000 years. It matters not whence 
we take our examples, we shall find man's nature always 
the same. The characters of Cain, of David, of Samson, 
of Darius, of Alexander, of Caesar have been repeated a 
hundred times since their day. The same passions, the 
same motives seem to move men now that moved them at 
the foundation of the world. There have been good and 
bad men in all ages ; there have been great and little men 
in all countries. If we should reach the remotest corner 
of the earth, even there we should find cowards and sneaks, 
heroes and honest men. 

It is not sufficiently borne in mind that the same man 
under different circumstances is as different as two different 
men under the same circumstances. He is not a very wise 
person who says because a man is honest to-day, he will be 
honest to-morrow. There are few indeed who can boldly 
face misfortune and be perfectly honorable, when by doing 
so, it brings ruin to themselves and family. Every man 
can be honest if he will, but some do not try. Some men 



176 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

have more fortitude and can stand up longer under ad- 
versity than others, but it has been over and over again 
demonstrated that the bravest soldiers will run like sheep 
under certain adverse influences. No man is honest every- 
day in the year, and when we trust men, it must be for 
their judgment and discretion, rather than their integrity. 

Viewed from one standpoint, it is a misfortune for a 
man to be prosperous. There are numbers of men who 
hate others for no reason in the world save that they pay 
their debts, are able to do so, and have some spare money 
besides. This is a law of human nature as old as the race 
itself, and is operating in full force in every community in 
the world. It is the legitimate offspring of envy and 
selfishness. Its aim is to cast a shadow on every man's 
good deeds, and blacken, if possible, every man's good 
name. There is a mixture of good and evil in this world, 
with the latter in much the larger proportion. Whoever 
thinks the Devil is dead, will find himself greatly mistaken. 

Some people have no heart, some have no liver, and a 
great many have no brains, but the most deplorable defect 
in a person's make-up is want of backbone. People with- 
out some stiffening of this kind are apt either to lop over 
on one side, or double up like a napkin. They find it 
impossible to stand up for their rights, or to stand up at 
all. They can be rolled into almost any conceivable 
shape, and no matter where one puts them, they always 
remain there. They are disagreeable people to look at, 
and still more disagreeable to deal with. There is a way 
of making false teeth, false eyes, false legs, and why 
doesn't Edison, or somebody else, invent a way of supply- 
ing backbones ? 

People do not differ so much in their ideas of right after 
all. Most men have more common sense than they care 
to use, and their conceptions of what is just and proper 
rarely differ from the conceptions • formed by mankind 
generally. The trouble is that too many do not choose to 
do what they know to be right They allow their selfish- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 177 

ness, or their passions, to prevail, and they are led to do 
things that in their own hearts they know to be wrong. 
It is an easy thing to get along with men who are willing 
to reason, for most men reason alike. The difficulty arises 
when men refuse to reason, when, like spoiled children, 
rhey want their own way. without any reference to the 
proprieties or equities of the case, even as they themselves 
understand them. 

The man who does a thousand favors has them all 
obliterated by one unlucky mishap, and he who has been 
your mortal enemy for years, asks pardon, is forgiven, 
and eventually crowds into the place of one of your 
warmest friends. That is the doctrine of forgiveness. 
On that basis a rebel, when he is beaten and helpless, is 
as good as a patriot — provided he repents. The rascal of 
a half century comes to the gallows eventually and is 
hung. He confesses his sins, finally goes to heaven, and 
there sits with angels in the presence of Grod. That used to 
be the doctrine, and we presume it is yet. On that basis, 
what was there wrong about Jesse James? We do not 
wonder that he was buried at last with appropriate relig- 
ious ceremonies. We doubt not he was prized alike for the 
good he might have done and the little evil he left undone. 

The principal business of a man in this world, espec- 
ially in this part of the world, is to get a living. Few are 
born with fortunes, and still fewer there are who can get 
along successfully in life without a vigorous and con- 
tinued effort to take care of themselves. It is no small 
credit to a man to build up a fortune by his own genius 
and perseverance : and it is still more creditable to build 
up a character by honesty and fair dealing. Where so 
many try and fail, it is all the more meritorious for those 
who try and succeed. Men who prosper and rise gradu- 
ally in civil life, do not generally receive that meed of 
praise to which they are justly entitled. They do not 
perhaps make as much noise as the warrior on the battle- 
field, or the statesman on the platform, but they have 
tact, energy, prudence, forbearance, and genius, for all that. 



178 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 



WEALTH. 

Every man, in order to be successful and to arrive at 
eminence in any business, or in any department of life, 
must have power. That power may come from a variety 
of sources, and may manifest itself in a variety of ways. 
It is hardly necessary for us to indicate that among the 
leading elements of strength, we must give the first place 
to wealth. As a source of comfort and enjoyment, ' 
wealth is to be esteemed of very little value, but as a 
power, as a means by which to bring about ends, it is in- 
valuable ; as such a power, and as such a power alone, it 
may deserve our attention and justif}^ our devotion. The 
rich man has time for reflection, time for study, and time 
for preparation, and time is of itself an important element 
of power. The poor man, so far from having leisure to 
promote his own advancement, is obliged to use all the 
working hours of the day in providing for the support of 
himself and his family. Besides, every attempt to reach 
success involves an undertaking, and every enterprise im- 
plies tools and machinery with which to carry it out. It 
requires means to get? up a model for an invention, and 
means to try the experiment of manufacture. It requires 
means to write a book, means to print it, and means to 
circulate it. It requires means to start a store, or buy a 
farm, means to carry it on, and means to pay for it. It 
requires means to get an office, means to keep it, means 
to get a position, means to command attention, means to 
obtain justice, and means to secure even our personal 
rights. Observe the advantage which the rich have over 
the poor, and how important it is that we should have 
means first and the ends afterward ! Poverty is slavery, 
because it is dependence. We must observe also that it 
is more or less ignominious, because it is more or less 
voluntary. We have studied with some care the history 
of our acquaintances, and we do not hesitate to state as 
our conclusion, that there is very little excuse in any case 
where a man has grown to manhood, having the use of 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 179 

his limbs and suffering no uncommon misfortune, and yet 
lie has not saved a competence. We are free to confess 
that we have very little sympathy for any one who, in 
this broad and free country, willfully, and of his own 
choice, remains poor. We know very well why so many 
men are helpless and dependent. Many expect to reach 
wealth by some bold and happy venture, and hence are 
fond of risks. Many more have never known the word 
-economy, have never dreamed that there was such a thing 
as save ; never have thought to measure their wants and 
their expenditures only by their income ; never have con- 
sidered how little would suffice where little was to be had. 
There are several reasons why people are poor and re- 
main so, and among them are the following : Many are 
entirely lacking in prudence and forethought. They 
rarely take thought of to-morrow. They never care about 
contingencies which they cannot see. They think that what 
never has happened, never will happen, and because things 
go well to-clay, they will be well forever. A prime cause 
of poverty and want is a disinclination to work. Many of 
our poor would rather starve than labor regularly day 
.after day. They labor by spells, with long pauses between 
the spells. They also lack calculation. They are wanting 
in tact and shrewdness. They are continually being over- 
reached by those who are sharper and less scrupulous than 
themselves. 

The number of poor who are necessarily destitute is 
very small indeed. Our American people have not yet 
learned, what has been learned in the old countries, how 
to make a little money go a great ways. If it is little they 
receive, it must be little they expend. They must wear 
•coarser clothes and eat coarser food. There is one safe 
rule that will enable any family, no matter how poor, to 
rise, and that is to spend less than they earn, or in other 
words, to earn more than they spend. However, we do not, 
perhaps, use the term poor in such an extensive sense as 
•others do. We call a man poor simply who has a large 
family and nothing to eat. A man is rich with a hundred 



180 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

dollars saved, and a strong arm to earn more ; rich, simply 
because he is independent, in that sense at least, richer 
than kings. 

One portion of the village of C , was settled by 

emigrant Germans, men who had in leaving their father- 
land taken money enough to bring them here, and no 
more. But they were men of sound bodies and strong 
wills. They were willing to work and knew how to save. 
A native born American would starve on such an income 
as they had, and still they managed easily to save each 
year from $50 to $100, and to go on steadily increasing 
that sum. In a few years they would buy a lot and put a 
snug little house upon it ; in a few years more they would 
finish it and pay for it. They were plain in their dress 
and habits ; every member of the family, not the merest 
child, was compelled to do his share towards the support 
of the whole. There was no noise of pianos nor waste 
of servant girls there. Many of them became rich and in- 
fluential men ; and all became independent in the highest 
acceptation of the term. So much by saving ; the road is 
certain, and it is open and plain to all. 

We might name talent and genius as important ele- 
ments of power, yet as they are not acquirements but 
gifts of nature, little need be said of them here. The only 
condition to be observed is that if we have talent and 
genius, they should be suitably used and properly directed. 

But, as indicated above, to be rich is not necessarily to 
be happy. Eiches develop pride and multiply desires. 
The man with a million is usually no better satisfied than 
a man with a thousand. There is always a seeming para- 
dise a little beyond, which, to all appearances, is quite ac- 
cessible, and which, if reached, would be certain to render 
the weary pilgrim happy forever. But that land of prom- 
ise is never reached. It retreats, like the horizon, as we 
approach, and no matter how far or how fast we travel, it 
always remains just so far in advance of us. Should we 
ascend the highest hill or the loftiest tower, we should still 
find its boundaries farther from us than ever. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 181 

There is no real wealth in anything, save in that which 
satisfies our desires and ministers to our wants. Every- 
thing else, to us, is uninteresting and valueless. But the 
rich man has a thousand things that he cannot use, or if 
not that, at least a thousand times as much of any one thing 
as he needs. The rich man is usually a slave to his own 
property. Instead of ministering to his wants, it only adds 
to his cares. No man is so busy or so wakeful as he that 
is wealthy. In this world of robbery and trickery, to 
say nothing of the accidents to which life is subject, 
it is much more difficult to keep property than to gain 
it. It must be guarded and watched at every point. The 
poor man can lie down and sleep, while the rich man must 
be ever on the alert. Not only mankind, but the very 
elements themselves, are in antagonism with the rich man. 
Good lu'ck, or simple industry, may enable a man to secure 
a fortune, but it requires the highest order of talent to re- 
tain it after it is secured. 

Again, even the poorest man is wealthier than he thinks 
himself to be. Does not the rain fall and the sun shine for 
all mankind ? Is there any man so rich that he may claim 
sole ownership of the birds that sing and the flowers that 
bloom? Has he a proprietary right to any one of the 
many wonders and beauties of nature ? Who can fence 
in and enjoy exclusively the shady groves, the winding 
streams, the green valleys ? Why, if the rich man builds 
a house or puts up a work of art, it is of small value to 
him, unless the world sees, admires and enjoys it with him. 
It is the wretched miser alone who imagines that he can 
enjoy the gold that is hidden from the sight of man. 
What empty things have titles proved to be, and, especially 
so, all titles to property ! A man owns only that which 
he can hold, and when he ceases to hold, he ceases to own. 
It is well known that a stronger and sharper man may take 
from him what he has at any time. 

Croesus was the richest, and was once supposed to 
be the happiest, of kings. But in a war with Cyrus, 
he was finally defeated, taken prisoner and put on a pile 



182 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

to be burned alive. In his last moments he was heard 
to exclaim, "Solon, Solon!" He was urged to proceed, 
and he at length continued: "Solon is a wise man 
of Greece, for whom I sent for the express purpose 
of admiring my prosperity. He coldly showed to me 
that it was nothing but a foolish vanity ; that I must wait 
to the end of life; that a man should not presume on 
a state of happiness that is subject to an infinity of 
calamities, and now I acknowledge the truth of all he 
then told me." "Better is a little with the fear of the 
Lord, than great treasure and trouble therewith." 

Finally, how much better off in any respect is a man 
that is worth a million than a man who is worth only 
a tenth or twentieth part of that ? What is there that the 
former needs that the latter could not buy ? What sense 
is there in a man's buying what he cannot use ? • What 
sense in his expending what hardly ministers to his enjoy- 
ment? 

There is doubtless a great deal of pleasure in acquiring 
property, as the chief pleasure of hunting lies in chasing 
the game. Certainly, most of the enjoyment connected 
with the accumulation of riches lies there. 

• Riches may add much to a man's comfort, but they 
cannot buy everything. Tom Scott, who died worth 
$20,000,000, would gladly have given his entire property 
for one more year of good health. Rich men ought to be 
happy, but as a general thing they are not. They are 
troubled more about their rents, per cents and interest 
than anything else. If they have money or property lying 
idle, it troubles them. They are anxious that every dol- 
lar they have shall be drawing at least legal interest, and 
if they are not making just so much money every year, 
they imagine they are losing ground. Intimate friends of 
William H. Yanderbilt say that, with all his millions, he 
has a chronic fear of losing his property, and dying a poor 
man. 

"A great fortune," says one writer, "is a great tyrant; 
it drives and spares not. Many a rich man looks back on 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 183 

the time when lie was poor, and sighs to remember how- 
free his mind then was from care, how much he enjoyed 
the simplest pleasures. But he would not exchange his 
present for his past any quicker than he would exchange 
freedom for slavery, health for disease, honor for infamy. 
He may confess that his vast propert} 7 , toiled and suffered 
for through years, worries and hardens him ; but he would 
not surrender any portion of it more willingly than he 
would surrender the use of his right arm. It is the male- 
diction of superabundant riches that, while they harry 
their owner, and may destroy his mental peace, he clings 
to them as tenaciously as to life, and is bitterly tormented 
by the smallest fraction of their decrease. The ordinary 
rich man does not enjoy what he has, so much as he suf- 
fers from what he fails to get. We have all heard of the 
New York Croesus who declined to contribute to a most 
worthy charity. The man who had asked for his sub- 
scription expressed his surprise. ' I should be glad to do 
it,' was his excuse, 'but really I can't afford it; why, at 
this moment, I have more than half a million of dollars in 
bank, and I'm not getting a cent of interest on it.' " 

On one of the last days of his earthly existence John 
Hopkins, the rich man of Baltimore, called his devoted 
gardener to him and said : — " I am beginning to hate this 
place, because it does not bring in money. I hate every- 
thing that does not bring in money. Did you ever feed 
hogs? Have you not observed that the strong animals 
bear away the ears of corn, and that the weaker ones pur- 
sue them squealing, in hopes that all or some of the treas- 
ure will be lost or dropped?" The gardener replied that 
the sketch was a true one. " Well, then, " said Mr. Hop- 
kins, "I am that strong hog. I have that big ear. of corn, 
and every piggish rascal in Baltimore is intent upon 
stealing it or wresting it from me. " " Sir, " he said, 
turning brusquely to the gardener, " do you think a very 
rich man is happy?" The gardener answered: — "The 
extreme of poverty is a sad thing. The extreme of 
wealth, no doubt, bears with it many tribulations. " Mr. 



184 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Hopkins rejoined: — "You are right, my friend; next to 
the hell of being utterly bereft of money, is the purgatory 
of possessing a vast amount of it. I have a mission, and 
under its shadow I have accumulated wealth, but not 
happiness. V 

Strange as it might seem, the men who have the most 
wealth are usually of the least value to a town; or in 
other words, those that have the most means usually 
make the least use of them for the benefit of the public. 
The man who earns a dollar a day, and spends the whole 
of it, as such men usually do, is worth more to any town 
than the man who draws his interest semi-annually and 
who either puts this interest out to draw interest again, or 
expends it in some other town than that in which he 
lives, and toward which, we might naturally expect, he 
would feel under the greatest obligations. 'As a rule, to 
which we are glad to know there are some honorable ex- 
ceptions, rich men — that is, the men who feel that they are 
independent and can do as they please, — stand in the way 
of all improvements. They hate taxes as a pioneer hates 
wolves, and they oppose improvements because they 

breed taxes. There are the towns Gr and C , 

which abound in nabobs of a certain standard. They 
affect to be aristocratic. They have pride enough, 
and conceit too ; but to carry out their notions in true 
aristocratic style, they lack tangible means. However, 
they are rich enough to own certain valuable real estate 
which the public greatly needs and would buy, but which 
is not obtainable at any price. They have influence 
enough to block the wheels when any enterprise is talked 
of, and they have tact and industry enough to discourage 
any one .who might, if left alone, do something to benefit 
the place in which he lives. It is a curious fact that, 
as a general thing, the more a man accumulates, the more 
his heart contracts, and the less he feels impelled to 
aid and encourage his less favored neighbors. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 185 

FRIENDS AND FRIENDSHIP. 

If we are to believe Cicero, "the use of a friend is 
more pleasing and necessary than the elements of water 
and fire," Certain it is, we all require assistance, and no 
one accomplishes much without sometimes needing the help 
of a friend. How we may secure friends, then, as well as 
how we may retain them, is one of the most important 
questions that could be submitted for our consideration. 

Friends are generally attracted to us by motives of in- 
terest, but sometimes they are moved with feelings of real 
admiration or love. " The cause of love," says Corneille, 
" is a I know not ivhat, and the effects are terrible." " This 
1 1- now not what" adds Pascal, "so little a thing as one 
may consider it, moves all the earth, princes, armies, the 
world entire. If the nose of Cleopatra had been shorter, 
all the face of the earth had been changed." Fancy gov- 
erns us in almost all our movements, but certainly quite 
as much in the selection of friends as in anything else. It 
would generally be hard to tell why we like this one bet- 
ter than some other. It is as useless to dispute about 
likings as about tastes, for our likings turn out to be 
simply matters of taste in the end. 

Nowhere is a thorough knowledge of the human heart 
brought into more frequent requisition, and nowhere can 
a man exhibit more judgment and tact than in the selec- 
tion of that line of conduct which shall secure and retain 
the friendship of others. The " Monitor " advises us that, 
"Friendship is more firmly secured by lenity towards fail- 
ings than by attachment to excellencies. The former is 
valued as a kindness which cannot be claimed ; the latter 
is exacted as the payment of a debt which merit may de- 
mand." No two persons should ever think of living 
together without understanding beforehand that each will 
have to make allowances for little imperfections, and that, 
even beyond this, he will often need to tolerate things 
which to him appear absolutely improper. 



186 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Neither should we ask for unbounded and uncondi- 
tional friendship, the friendship that is blind to our errors, 
and that never sees wrongs on our part. Pascal, who knew 
this world well, has left this saying : "If men knew ex- 
actly what was said of each other, there would not be four 
friends in the world." We think this fact is wisely or- 
dered as we find it. No man has any interest in knowing 
everything that is said or thought of him by his friends. 
It would do him no good, and often much harm, to have 
this knowledge. The privilege should be accorded, even 
to our friends, of speaking of us freely, if they do it can- 
didly and fairly. Let us not be so conceited, or so weak, 
as to think we have no faults which our friends have 
observed. It is perhaps well that, like the ostrich which 
hides its head in the sand and thinks it has concealed the 
whole body, we succeed in deluding ourselves with the 
hope of having so artfully veiled our imperfections, that 
no one can speak of us except in terms of praise and ad- 
miration. Besides all this, men frequently say things of 
us at one time which they would not say at another ; per- 
haps they have been misinformed, or have in some way 
received erroneous impressions. So long as people see fit 
to treat us well, and esteem us enough to keep our friend- 
ship, it should be a matter of little concern to us what 
they may think of us, or what they may say of us to others 
in confidence. 

No one has a possession more valuable than he who has 
strong friends. Money is often powerful, but in many 
cases money cannot do for us what would be done by 
friends. Friends have an interest in our success, and a 
sympathy for us in our misfortunes, but interest and sym- 
pathy are the two things that money will not purchase. 
Genius has done much for men, industry has done much, 
and wealth even more, but not one of these has done as 
much for the success and elevation of others as has been 
done by faithful and influential friends. The value of 
help that we pay for is well illustrated by what Mrs. Har- 
ris said about the hired nurse. She said it was not so 



THE STUDY OF MAX 187 

much trouble for a nurse to take care of sick people as 
some folks imagined. " as most of them don't want any- 
thing now-a-days, and when they do, they don't get it." 
" .V faithful friend is a strong defence, and he who hath 
found such a one, hath found a treasure. Nothing doth 
countervail a faithful friend, and his excellence is in- 
valuable/ ' 

\Ve should be careful whom we select as our friends. A 
man who becomes our friend, must necessarily know more 
of our secrets than ever comes to the knowledge of stran- 
gers. The advice of the inspired writer is good : — "For- 
sake not an old friend, for the new is not comparable to 
him ; a new friend is as new wine, when it is old thou 
shalt drink it with pleasure." We should also be careful 
to select friends who would have a- natural affection for us, 
and not some opposing interest. The following fable 
should be borne in mind : A snake having made his hole 
close to the porch of a cottage, inflicted a severe bite on 
the cottager's infant son, of which he died, to the great 
grief of his parents. The father resolved to kill the snake, 
and the next day, on its coming out of its hole for food, 
took up his axe, but making too much haste to hit him, 
as he wriggled away, missed his head, and cut off only the 
end of his tail. After some time the cottager, afraid lest 
the snake should bite him also, endeavored to make peace, 
and placed some bread and salt in his hole. The snake, 
slightly hissing, said : — " There can henceforth be no 
peace between us ; for whenever I see you, I shall remem- 
ber the loss of my tail, and whenever you see me, you will 
be thinking of the death of your son." 

The best recommendation that can be given to a man is 
to say that he is a warm friend. We all despise a man 
who deserts or betrays us, and it may be well to observe 
here that no man ever gained any permanent advantage 
by turning his back upon his friends. The history of 
Tyler, Johnson, Hayes and others prove that. 

Money has power, but one of the few things it cannot 
possibly do, is to buy friends ; one of the few things which 



188 , PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

it most certainly cannot purchase, is affectionate interest 
and fond regard. There is no substitute for the help of a 
friend ; nothing can fully replace him. Friends recommend 
us, friends introduce us, friends give us credit, friends con- 
sole us, friends encourage us, friends lend us a helping 
hand. Without the support of friends and their co-opera- 
tion, no man ever accomplished anything of great 
moment. 

To increase the number of our friends, the first step is 
to enlarge the circle of our acquaintance. The feelings of 
a stranger are those of indifference ; friends alone have 
that interest in our success and welfare which is developed 
by a long and intimate acquaintance. It is a matter of 
surprise to the uninitiated, if not to all, how easily friends 
are won and how easily they are lost again. It must be 
borne in mind that it is only a portion of our friends that 
become such from motives of personal or pecuniary 
interest. Men become interested in our success from 
motives of esteem, motives of sympathy and attachment. 
It is our principles, our conduct, our nature, that has 
impressed them favorably, and if we would continue our 
hold upon their friendship and regard, we must continue 
"the impression we have made upon their minds and their 
hearts. If we prove ourselves unprincipled and vain, un- 
forgiving and ungrateful, forgetful of their feelings and 
wants, and careless of our obligations to them, we should 
not expect to retain their friendship. To a person of 
acute perceptions and quick discernment, a mere word or 
sign is enough to indicate any or all of these things. 
Friends, too, are much in the nature of lovers, they can- 
not endure neglect. Many friends are lost by rudeness, 
want of attention, or lack of remembrance. 

A man loses friends, — that is, any but fawning, 
sycophantic friends, — as soon as he is supposed to have 
become either rich or powerful. This is especially true in 
politics. The moment a man rises and comes to possess 
influence and power, the weaker combine and never rest 
till they have compassed his downfall. Diogenes was 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 189 

asked one day how Dionysius, the tyrant, treated his 
friends : "As men treat bottles," said Diogenes ; "when 
full, they hang them up carefully and save them ; when 
^empty, they cast them away." 

It is remarkable how slight a thing makes a man your 
<enemy, and again how slight a thing will make him your 
friend. Most offences are purely imaginary, and their re- 
membrance is easily effaced. Any mere token of recog- 
nition, the smallest act of kindness has the effect to soften 
•even the most obdurate heart. We have high authority 
for saying that " sweet language will multiply friends, and 
;a fair-speaking tongue will increase kind greetings. Be at 
peace with many, nevertheless have but one counsellor of 
a thousand." Somebody else has said : " Deal with an 
•enemy as if he were to become your friend, and with your 
friend as if he might become an enemy." It is one of the 
;soundest rules of life, never unnecessarily to offend 
any one, for we may often be thrown into the power 
of others when we would least expect it. While it will not 
.answer to treat our friends with suspicion, or as if they 
were not deserving of our confidence, still a little caution, 
a little reserve, should be remembered. " Be attentive to 
your friends and take care not to lose them ; but live 
among them with as much circumspection as if they were 
some day to become your greatest enemies." — Bias. The 
strongest friends may and do become estranged, and some 
may be unprincipled enough to publish your secrets 
to your injury. Whoever has your inmost secrets 
must have you at his own mercy, and be so far your 
master. It becomes us to remark as well here as any- 
where, that we should not for one moment, under any cir- 
cumstances, lay aside our discretion. We should never 
let the exuberance of our feelings at one time betray us 
into acts which we may be sorry for at another. No cau- 
tion could be given, perhaps, more valuable than this, and 
none, perhaps, more difficult for us to follow, so prone are 
we to allow ourselves to be governed at times by feel- 
ing and sentiment, rather than by judgment and sense. 



190 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

We have but one more observation to make on this 
subject of friends : we must not expect them to be perfect, 
we must not expect them to be without serious faults. 
Nor must we be surprised to find them different at 
different times, and not always answering the conceptions 
we had formed of their character. No one has a uniform 
character, or an unvarying course of action. " Nothing, 
therefore," says Dr. Johnson, "is more unjust than to 
judge of men by too short an acquaintance, and too slight 
an inspection." 



BEAUTY. 



That which is beautiful is simply that which is desira- 
ble and pleasing ; that which is ugly is merely something 
which is forbidding and disagreeable. We are too apt to 
look upon beauty as unimportant, and as something which 
is simply an ornament and no more. This would be about 
as sensible as to affirm that it was not a matter of much 
moment whether things pleased us or not. It does not 
follow, indeed, that things which are beautiful to the eye 
or ear, for example, are in every other respect useful 
or desirable. Thus, some berries are very beautiful in 
color, and yet are found to be poisonous. But when a thing 
is both beautiful and useful, it is doubly desirable. 

Even beauty itself has its uses ; it pleases, instructs and 
moves us. We can tolerate that which is ugly or unhand- 
some, but we cannot love it ; it cannot delight us. Per- 
haps the main difficulty is, that we count that wholly 
beautiful which only pleases the eye, while in fact that is 
only one of the elements or conditions of beauty. Plato 
says: " The outside of Socrates was' that of a satyr and 
buffoon, but his soul was all virtue ; and from within came 
such divine and pathetic things as pierced the heart, and 
drew tears from the hearers." Here we have a man with 
a homely carriage and face, but a soul beautiful and 
lovely. It is this beauty of his soul that in a great 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 191 

measure redeems him. With a beautiful exterior we 
should have loved him; now he has only our reverence 
and esteem. 

In being beautiful, or rather in appearing so, there is an 
art which most people do not seem to understand. The 
principle is prettily illustrated in this saying of Lycurgus: 
"Long hair makes the handsome more beautiful, and the 
ugly more terrible." People will see it proved every day 
that what will improve the appearance of one person, will 
render another more hideous and disgusting ; and yet the 
ladies wear hats of the same shade, and if possible, one of 
the same size : they will have them lined with the same col- 
ors and trimmed in the same manner. Their hair, too, must 
be dressed in the same fashion. And still we all know 
that a thing beautiful in itself may appear disgusting 
by being put in the wrong place, or being wrongly as- 
sociated. 

What we ail delight in, is harmony; we like to see 
things associated together which set off and improve each, 
other. \Ye do not sufficiently appreciate how much the 
dress in which a person appears may change and improve 
the appearance, how much, for example, the lining of a 
lady's hat may change the color of the face, or how much 
the make of a coat may alter the apparent height or size 
of a gentleman. 

Xo sensible person will neglect beauty. Even the stern 
and rigid warriors, our great generals, Cyrus, Caesar, 
Scipio. Alexander the Great and Napoleon, were never 
careless about beauty. When the Emperor of Eussia 
went to attend the Fair at Paris, some years since, he took 
with him twenty nobles, the handsomest he could find in 
his empire. The King of Prussia and the Sultan of Tur- 
key carried out the same idea. Louis Xapoleon had a 
large guard about his palace, and he was particular to see 
that they were all handsome men ; indeed, they were re- 
ported to be the handsomest hundred men in Europe. 
••Beauty is a potent and advantageous quality," says Mon- 
taigne: and Cicero informs us that, ''It is of great conse- 



192 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

quence in what bodies souls are placed, for many things 
spring from the body that sharpen the mind, and many 
that blunt and dull it." 

Handsome men and handsome women have greatly the 
start when they enter upon the race for fame and position, 
and the reason why they fail so often to gain the victory, 
is because they almost always have corresponding weak- 
nesses. Plain and homely men, it is true, labor under 
great disadvantages, but they frequently make up by en- 
ergy and tact what they lack in beauty and attractiveness. 
Many of the world's most successful men were by no 
means handsome ones. Alexander the Great had one 
shoulder higher than another, and carried his head awry ; 
Socrates had an everlasting notoriety as a homely man; 
of Johnson and Goldsmith everybody has heard. Marat, 
Robespierre and Mirabeau were men of forbidding looks r 
and yet they all attained great eminence in their line. Of 
the former it has been said that : " Nature had bestowed 
on him a most unprepossessing exterior. He was dimin- 
utive in stature, scarcely five feet high, his form was ill- 
shaped, his head large, his features strongly marked and 
distorted, his complexion sallow, with nothing to relieve 
his repulsive ugliness, save a bright and piercing eye, which, 
in his last years, had in its glances a wildness that was 
sometimes attributed to insanity." 

It might be added that deformities are not without their 
significance. A deformed body certainly has a reaction- 
ary effect upon the character. Doubtless the causes which 
originally warped the body, equally warped the mind. 

Beauty and goodness do not always go together. We 

either cannot read the face correct!}', or it is sometimes 

sadly in discord with the soul. There are too many 

of whom we might say with Dryden : 

His soul belied the features of his face, 
Beauty was there, but beauty in disgrace. 

"Beauty," we are told by Montaigne, "is a thing of 
great recommendation in the correspondence among men ; 
'tis the principal means of acquiring. the favor and good 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 198 

liking of one another, and no man is so barbarous and 
morose that he does not perceive himself in some sort 
struck with this attraction. The body has a great share 
in our being, has an eminent place there, and, therefore, 
its structure and symmetry are of very just consideration.' 7 
And it was Bacon who said that " a pleasing figure is a 
perpetual letter of recommendation." Most people would 
rather be beautiful than rich, and yet what object in na- 
ture can be more disgusting, or at least more uninterest- 
ing, than a pretty person with no other charms and no 
other cause for admiration? It cannot be denied that 
beauty confers a great power upon its possessor, but it is 
often the source, too, of great misery and misfortune. 
Nature fixes a corresponding penalty for every gift she 
bestows upon man, and in no case is the rule more forci- 
bly illustrated than where the prize is that of beauty. 
Beauty conquers too easily, and the one who possesses it 
is apt to become inactive and indolent. Beauty renders a 
person vain and conceited. A beautiful person undergoes 
ten times as much temptation as that encountered by one 
who is not beautiful. When we bear in mind how many 
men and women have fallen through their beauty, we 
are left to question whether beauty on the whole is not 
as much of a misfortune as a blessing. Beautiful creat- 
ures, as beautiful birds, beautiful fishes, beautiful animals 
of all kinds, are prized and preserved for their looks ; but 
it is also true that when the robber or the hunter comes T 
it is the beautiful first which are seized or destroyed. 

Beauty is not a sure passport to either eminence or suc- 
cess. Men have succeeded who were beautiful, and men 
have succeeded who were not. Of our presidents, we are 
informed that Washington was a man of commanding 
mien ; John Adams was a man of fair looks ; Jefferson 
was not handsome, but he was tall in stature and his look 
was impressive ; Madison was a man of common appear- 
ance; Monroe was a man of medium height and fair 
looks ; John Q. Adams was small and unattractive in per- 
son; Jackson was tall and thin, and more striking in ap- 



194 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

pearance than beautiful ; Van Buren was a man of fine 
manners and good looks ; Harrison was also good look- 
ing ; Tyler was a man of moderate looks ; Polk had noth- 
ing in his looks to boast of ; Taylor was strong and vigor- 
ous, but not particularly handsome ; Fillmore was one of 
the handsomest men of his day ; Buchanan was a man of 
good size and passable in looks ; Lincoln was tall and un- 
handsome ; Johnson was strong and fair-looking ; Grant is 
short, strong, and common in appearance ; Hayes is good 
looking, and Grarfield was more so than ordinary ; Arthur 
stands with Fillmore, in the matter of looks, at the head 
of the list. But it is a fact worthy of mention, in this 
connection, that, in politics, many men are advanced who 
have little or no other recommendation than an imposing 
presence and "a fair-speaking tongue." 



BKOTHEKLY LOYE. 

We hear a great deal said about " brotherly love," but 
we fail to see much of it in the affairs of every-day life. 
Christ taught the doctrine of brotherly love. With him 
the term had a meaning both broad and deep. It had no 
such narrow application as it has with those who claim to 
be his disciples here in this world below. Christ's 
brotherly love extended to all men, of every sect and 
of every condition in life. He did not stop to ask " will 
it pay " ; neither did he enquire whether the one who 
needed his help was " a member of his church." He 
extended his merciful arm for the salvation of all 
mankind, white and black, rich and poor, bond and 
free, believer and infidel, Jew and Grentile. His disciples 
he selected from among men in the humblest walks 
of life, and when he healed the sick, he took them as they 
came, without prejudice or preference, and with no hope 
of reward. 

But with his followers, it is quite a different thing. A 
man is not a brother, unless he believes as they do, 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 195 

and that down to the minutest point. He is not a 
brother in good standing, unless he has the same tastes, 
the same fancies and the same whims as they have. If he 
be rich and popular, it increases the affection. If he be 
talented and witty, that covers manifold weaknesses. If 
he be handsome, that helps matters greatly. If he have 
patronage to dispense, that strengthens the brotherly ties. 
But woe to any poor unfortunate, helpless sinner when he 
falls. His appeal to the brotherhood would never be 
heard, though his cries for help were loud enough to send 
echoes across a continent. The brethren would fail to 
trace an}' family resemblance in him, try they ever so 
bard. They would not be able to find the important 
strawberry mark, and hence would fail to give him 
recognition. 

We might say even more upon the subject of sisterly 
love, but we must leave that for some other occasion. 



TRUTH AND PROPRIETY. 

To a person who has carefully studied the history and 
•character of the human race, pride of opinion must appear 
the most unreasonable of all things. In fact, there is 
nothing in our sentiments or opinions of which we can 
rightfully feel proud. Of what we believe, there is nothing 
that we can really call our own, nothing upon which we 
■can place confidence and rely with safety. Our thoughts 
and opinions come to us, as they do to others, from with- 
out. What we think, others have thought before us, and 
•doubtless others will think after us. All we do is to dress 
the thoughts in our own style. 

People are too much inclined to think that what they 
believe must be right, and what is contrary to this must 
be wrong. They do not take into consideration what an 
unstable thing is one's own belief. What we think to-day, 
very likely we did not think yesterday, and will not think 
' to-moiTOw. In the matter of human belief there is nothing 



196 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

fixed or established. There is no rule or law by which 
opinion is to be governed. People believe differently ac- 
cording to the impressions they receive, according to their 
individual interest, and according to the opinions they in- 
herit from their ancestors. We vainly believe that what 
we imagine to be true and right, must certainly be so, not 
only here and for ourselves, but all over the world. This 
is a very great mistake. As many people as there are on 
the globe, so many codes there are concerning right and 
wrong, justice and propriety. This can best be illustrated 
by showing what people, growing up under other circum- 
stances and living under other conditions, have been led to 
believe. Among several savage peoples it is considered 
improper for a mother-in-law to speak directly to her son- 
in-law. If she does so, she must turn her back upon him 
and speak through the medium of a third person. Else- 
where, a woman may not speak to her father-in-law. In 
China, the father-in-law never sees the face of his daughter- 
in-law after marriage, unless by chance. In many races, 
the father, and not the mother, is put to bed when a child 
is born. Indeed, something quite akin sometimes happens 
in this and other civilized countries. The father's illness 
under these circumstances is much more universal than 
many people suppose. The idea that people acquire the 
nature of the animal whose flesh they eat, is wide spread.. 
Savages have a great dread of seeing their own likeness. 
While civilized people are usually proud of twins, savages'- 
abhor them. They say it levels them with brutes ; and it 
often occurs that one of the twins is destroyed. Kissing- 
with us is a mark of affection ; by other people it is ab- 
horred. The Malays sit down when speaking to a supe- 
rior ; a Chinaman puts on his hat, instead of taking it off. 
Among the Esquimaux, it is a compliment to a man to 
have his nose pulled ; in this and other countries, it is the 
highest indignity. A nice present to give a relative in 
China is a coffin, especially if his health is not excellent. 
Savage people cannot generally understand drawings, and 
a landscape painting is a blank to them, aside from the* 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 197 

colors. Tattooing, which to our eyes appears hideous, to 
natives affords delight. Many savages have no word for 
love, and do not know what friendship is. Among most 
savage people, woman enjoys the very lowest rank. She 
is a slave, and so are her children. For one woman to have 
several husbands, is by no means rare ; for one man to have 
several wives, is certainly common enough anywhere. The 
marriage ceremony is to be found among nearly all people 
the world over. In Greenland, when a young man loves a 
maiden, he proposes to the parents, rather than to the girl 
herself. Among many savage people, it is the custom to 
provide guests with temporary wives. In ancient Egypt, 
illegitimate children were preferred over others. Many 
people, civilized as well as barbarous, place no high esti- 
mate on life, and hence do not dread death. Many people 
can be found where all those things which we call crimes, 
namely, theft, robbery, murder, rape, etc., are considered 
virtues of which to boast. Moral feeling and respect for 
private rights are generally absent among uncultivated 
races. In some cases, the father is named after his son, 
instead of the reverse, as with us. In other cases, the man 
takes the name of the wife he marries. 



ATTIRE. 



The importance of dress is apt to be underestimated, 
but whether people are well or ill dressed, often makes all 
the difference imaginable. In the words of Beaconsfield : 
ki Dress does not make a man, but it makes a successful 
one. I have known many an heiress lost by her suitor 
being ill dressed. You must dress according to your age, 
your pursuits, your object in life ; you must dress too, in 
some cases, according to your set. In youth, a little fancy 
is expected, but if political life be your object, it should 
be avoided, at least after twenty-one years of age." 

Dress is the uniform in which people present them- 
selves. To strangers, it may be the sole mark by which 



198 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

the rank and importance of the wearer is known. It is 
the stamp, and the stamp alone, which gives coin its value 
as currency. When Girard, the famous French painter, 
was still a young man, he went as the bearer of a let- 
ter of introduction to Lanjuinais, one of the Council 
of Napoleon. The young painter was shabbily attired, 
and, consequently, his reception was cold ; but Lanjuinais 
discovered in him, as conversation went on, such striking 
proofs of talent, good sense and amiability, that, on Gi- 
rard' s rising to take leave, he arose too, and accompanied 
his visitor to the ante-chamber. This change in the host's 
manner was so striking that Girard could not avoid an 
appearance of surprise. "My young friend," said Lanjui- 
nais, anticipating the inquiry, "we receive an unknown 
person according to his dress, but we take leave of him 
according to his merit." 

The importance of attire applies not only to the clothes 
a man wears, but the garb in which anything appears. 
" In the very aspect of a law deed written in an archaic 
hand, on dingy parchment, there is something which raises 
a conception of validity not raised by ordinary writing 
on paper. Around a government stamp there is a certain 
glamour which makes us feel as though the jDiece of paper 
bearing it was more than a mere mass of dry pulp with 
some indicated marks. To any legal form of words there 
seems to attach an authority greater than that which 
would be felt were the language free from legal involu- 
tions and legal technicalities. And so it is with all the 
symbols of authority, from royal pageants downwards. 
That the judge's wig gives to his decisions a weight and 
sacredness they would not have were he bareheaded, is a 
fact familiar to every one. And when we descend to the 
lowest agents of executive organizations, we find the same 
thing. A man in blue coat and white metal buttons, 
which carry with them the thought of State authority, is 
habitually regarded by citizens as having a trustworthi- 
ness beyond that of a man who wears no such uniform, and 
this confidence survives all disproofs. "Spencers Sociology. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 199 

The stylo, or dress, in which thought is presented makes 
a wonderful difference in the impression it leaves. A 
common thought in striking language has a much greater 
effect than a striking thought in common language. Car- 
lyle furnishes an excellent illustration. Of what he has 
written, it has been said: "Anything more musty or 
somniferous than these utterances, so far as their substance 
is concerned, can hardly be found outside of Blair's ser- 
mons. Coming from a common writer, they would induce 
a sleepiness which neither poppy nor mandragord, nor all 
the drowsy syrups of the world, could rival in producing. 
But preached in the strong, rugged words, and with the 
tremendous emphasis of Carlyle, these old saws, which are 
really the essence of all morality, instead of making us 
yawn, startle like original and novel fancies." 

"It is not every man that can afford to wear a shabby 
coat, and worldly wisdom dictates to her disciples the 
propriety of dressing somewhat beyond their means, but 
of living somewhat within them, for every one sees how 
we dress, but none see how we live, except w r e choose to 
let them. But the truly great are by universal suffrage 
exempted from these trammels, and may live and dress as 
they please." — Colton. 

The frame is often more potent in its effect upon the be- 
holder than the picture itself ; so it is with dress and the 
one that wears it. We cannot cut off our surroundings, 
and what they contribute towards the impression we make 
must not be lightly estimated. Everything contributes to 
the impression which an object makes, as the location, the 
light thrown upon it, and articles around it. The yard 
and what it contains has more to do with the outward ap- 
pearance of a residence than most people suppose. A 
house looks different according to the standpoint from 
which it is viewed. To appear well, it must be built with 
reference to its location and the surroundings. So it is 
with people. They must be dressed according to the cir- 
cumstances of the case, not only according to their means 
and station in life, but according to their age, their build, 



200 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

their stature, their complexion. A dress that would look 
well on one person appears hideous on another. A lady 
to be tastefully as well as fashionably dressed, must know 
"the three grand unities of dress" — her own station, her 
own age, and her own points. Without understanding 
and observing these things, no woman can possibly dress 
well. 

There is no harm in anybody's trying to appear well 
It is rather commendable than otherwise. Nothing pleases 
the eye more than beauty. Indeed, it may be said that 
anything that pleases the eye is beautiful. We all like to 
see people well dressed, and those who are thus attired, 
have the satisfaction not only of pleasing themselves, but 
others also. "A thing of beauty is a joy forever," and 
nothing in nature or art is quite so beautiful as the perfect 
human form, dressed and adorned with sense and taste. 

All will agree that it is important for everybody- to ap- 
pear well, but no person can do so, if he is not properly 
attired. The dress improves, or detracts from, the appear- 
ance of the wearer, according as it is well or ill made, or 
according as it is well or ill adapted to the form and fea- 
tures of the wearer. To decide what is most becoming to 
each individual requires taste, and without the exercise of 
taste, and that based on judgment, experience and skill, 
no person can hope to realize that exalting and improving 
effect which becoming attire alone can give. 

If it be important to dress well at home, it is much 
more important to dress well abroad. The dress a person 
wears may be, and often is, deceptive, but it frequently 
happens that the dress worn is the only standard by which 
we are able to measure a stranger. If we see a person 
richly attired, we naturally infer that the wearer has the 
means to justify the outlay. We are often deceived in 
this inference, we know, but where we have nothing bet- 
ter, dress must remain, as it has always been, the chief 
mark by which we judge those we do not know. 

" The world at large pays homage to the man in uni- 
form, from the king in his red and gold, to the deck-hand 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 201 

in a blue shirt Fifty men dressed as civilians will pass 
unnoticed in a public place, but a hundred opera glasses 
will be leveled at the man who walks into a theatre while 
wearing a military cloak. TV~e have seen a half-dozen 
men vainly trying to flirt with a girl, who finally smiled 
at a brakeman. or a newsman with a blue cap." — Herald. 
It will be observed that [Nature herself loves the beau- 
tiful, for she dresses her creatures always becomingly, and 
sometimes with splendor. k> My guest," said the rich and 
powerful Croesus to Solon, who had come to see him, 
" have you ever seen any one dressed so splendidly as I 
am?" "0 yes," answered Solon, "I have seen pheas- 
ants, dung-hill cocks and peacocks dressed much more 
magnificently than you, and what is more, their livery 
was their own, the gift of Nature herself. 1 ' 



CONCEIT AND PRESUMPTION. 

" The plague of man is the opinion of wisdom ; and for 
this reason it is that ignorance is so recommended to us by 
our religion as proper to faith and obedience." 

"Presumption is our natural and incurable disease. 
The most wretched and frail of all creatures is man, and 
withal the proudest." This is the language of Montaigne, 
a man who knew man's nature exceedingly well. It is a 
very noticeable fact that the nature of the race has not 
changed a whit since his day. Conceit is to-day the de- 
termined enemy of all progress, the insurmountable obsta - 
cle to all honest intellectual development. It is with the 
boy in the workshop : it is with the mrteter in the school ; 
it is with the minister in the pulpit : — conceit is every- 
where. What people do not know, they think they know, 
and what people think they know, it is folly to try to 
teach them. The absurdity of conceit is well illustrated 
by a story told by Colt on in his work entitled "Lacon." 
The Senior Wrangler of a certain year, piping hot from 
the Senate House at Cambridge, went to the play at 



202 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Drury Lane. It so happened that a certain great person- 
age entered at the same moment, on the other side of the 
house, but unobserved by the mathematician. The whole 
house testified their respect by a general rising and clap- 
ping of hands. Our astonished academic instantly ex- 
claimed, to the no small amusement of his London friends : 
"Well, well, this is more than I expected ; how is it possi- 
ble that these good people should so soon have discovered 
that I am the Senior Wrangler?" But the Khan of Tar- 
tary is a match for him. As soon as this poor fellow, 
who has not a house that he can call his own, has finished 
his meal of mare's milk and horseflesh, a herald near him 
proclaims that now that the Khan is through with his 
meal, all the princes and potentates of the earth may begin 
theirs. 

Jupiter once issued a proclamation to all the beasts of 
the forest, and promised a royal reward to one whose off- 
spring should be deemed the handsomest. The monkey 
came with the rest, and presented with all a mother's ten- 
derness, a flat-nosed, hairless, ill-featured young monkey 
as a candidate for the promised reward. A general laugh 
saluted her on the presentation of her son. She resolutely 
said : — " I know not whether Jupiter will allot the prize to 
my son ; but this I do know, that he is, at least in the 
eyes of me, his mother, the dearest, handsomest, and 
sweetest of all." There is nothing that people adore so 
much and adhere to so tenaciously as their own errors. 
They see things clearly, in their own mind, and wonder at 
the stupidity or willfulness of other people, because they 
cannot see them also. 

In the castles and palaces of the ancient nobility of 
France, the tapestry frequently presents evidence of the 
pride of ancestry. On the tapestry of an apartment in the 

palace of Due de C is a representation of the Deluge, in 

which a man is seen running after Noah, and calling out, 

"My good man, save the archives of the C family." 

They have the same kind of people, it seems, among the 
negroes of Guinea, Some Frenchmen who had landed on 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 203 

the coast of that country were carried before a negro 
prince. He was seated under a tree : his throne was a 
block of wood, and his guard consisted of three negroes 
armed with wooden pikes. And this ridiculous savage 
wanted to know : " Do they talk much of me in France?'* 
But the world is full of such conceited fellows, and we 
need not go to Guinea to find them. 



EASCALS. 



A great deal can be said even in behalf of rascals. They 
are active, vigorous, bold, determined. Their ideas of in- 
dustry are different from ours, but they work for what 
they get, quite as well as other folks. The man who 
cracks a safe, studies the problem for weeks and always 
puts his whole soul into the venture. He exhibits more 
tact, more sense, more science, more art, oftentimes, than 
the ablest general does in his hardest -fought battles. The 
robber risks his life in his undertaking, and if he escapes,. 
he is continually in fear of chains and prison-bars. 

Our murderers are not our greatest villains. H they 
were, what would we say of those who head armies and 
mobs ? Numbers dignify any crime. The worst crime 
in the category is not such, if it be understood to be uni- 
versal. He who kills one man. no matter from what mo- 
tive, is liable to be hung, if detected. But if he kills 
a thousand, and especially if he heads a band so numerous 
as to convert murder into "war," he passes for a hero. 
Semmes who commanded the Confederate cruiser, at one 
time, if caught, would have been hung as a pirate. Now. 
he rates as a first-class naval commander. He did some- 
heavy jobs of a rather wicked character, and that gave- 
him a reputation. He is known now as Admiral Semmes.. 
Such men as Scipio and Cortez, to say nothing of the- 
Xapoleons and Bismarcks of a later da}-, rank veiy high, 
chiefly, as we understand it, because, either directly or in- 
directly, they, like Samson, slew their enemies " hip and 
thigh, with great slaughter." 



204 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

The rascal lias many advantages in this world. He has 
generally nothing to "lose. He has neither money nor 
character, and all he gets by his arts and his efforts, is 
clear gain. If he fails to get what he covets, he simply 
fails to get what never belonged to him. Bnt if lie suc- 
ceeds in robbing his victim, lie is then only a little labor 
out, and generally a good deal of money in. 

How carefully the law, especially in this country, pro- 
tects the liar, the loafer, the thief, the robber, the assassin ! 
The law starts, and acts continually, upon that absurd and 
deceiving dogma, that every man is innocent until lie is 
proven guilty. This abominable rule has been the salva- 
tion in times past of millions of rogues. Thousands of 
individuals have adopted this theory in their iirivate busi- 
ness, to their everlasting sorrow. The theory that every 
man is honest, we need hardly say, is a false one. The 
safest doctrine to start with, is that no man is honest, and 
then we may go about hunting up the excejitions wher- 
ever we can find them. In every community, and espec- 
ially in eveiy town and city, there are scores, if not hun- 
dreds, of men known to be rascals, and conceded to be such, 
who prey upon the thrifty and industrious, and yet are 
permitted to go about their business entirely unmolested, 
because there happens to be no evidence at command to 
prove the wicked life thej^ are following. It would be in- 
finitely better for society if the burden of proof were 
shifted in some instances, and the criminal himself were 
compelled to demonstrate the honest and blameless life he 
claims to be leading. Our jails and prisons would fill up 
faster, but the number of culprits at large would be greatly 
diminished thereby. 

One class of criminals, the most despicable and danger- 
ous of all, namely, liars, we do not pretend to punish at all. 
"We call it a breach of trust, and allow the victim to 
pocket his injury and make the most of it. Why should 
not a man who cheats us by lying be punished as well as 
a man who robs us in some other [way ? If people will 
] Lot tell the truth, the law should step in and compel them 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 205 

to do so. Another class, not <juite so low and not quite 
langerous to society, directly considered, namely, loaf- 
ers, we take up and foster with remarkable care. If a 
man does not feel disposed to work, if he finds it against 
his principles, or it offends his sensibilities, society steps 
in and lends what it calls a helping hand. It goes upon 
the theory that no one is obliged to work unless he pre- 
fers. If he will not support himself, society must do it for 
him. This detestable doctrine is filling our jails, our alms- 
houses and our prisons every year. AVe are paying mil- 
lions annually to support a standing army of loafers, whose 
chief office in society is to rob our hen-roosts by night, 
■and cheat our shop-keepers by day. 

The murderer is more favorably treated than all the 
rest. The cloak of the law is thrown around him, vile as 
he is. and the struggle is to find how he may get out of its 
-clutches. There is not a doubt, difficulty, question, or 
method of escape that human ingenuity can invent, that is 
not brought to the sendee of the prisoner. The viler the 
rascal has been, the more the law refuses to believe that 
he could have done such a wicked deed. Delays, compli- 
cations and quibbles are brought into requisition. Sharp 
lawyers hash the matter up. and so befog the jury in their 
argument that, when they retire to their rooms, they are 
utterly unable to tell whether they are standing on their 
heels or their head. They fail to agree, or they declare 
the proof insufficient. They know that the rascal is guilty, 
but they are absolutely unable to find him so. Such is 
the power, not of reason, but of law. Or, if by mistake 
he is found guilty, he is promptly granted a new trial. 
Then comes the law's delay. Finally, after a year, or 
perhaps years, he is found guilty and sentenced to be 
hung. Then the governor steps in. saying it is too bad to 
hang such a fine fellow, and so he favors him with a par- 
don or reprieve. 



206 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 



FALSE INFERENCES. 



People who have large imagination often allow it to run 
away with them. What they simply see in their minds, 
they think they see with their eyes. What they suspect 
or fear to be true, they finally come to believe to be true. 
We see this principle at work continually, and we are 
constantly meeting with people who assert as facts what 
they have dreamed, or imagined to be facts — a defect in 
the constitution of men that is often productive of the 
most hurtful consequences. 

No one should assert what he has not the evidence to 
prove. If he has no proof of what he affirms to be true, 
he should be honest enough always to add that fact. 
Many men read and listen carelessly, often attaching 
wrong meanings to words, and hence drawing unfair and 
erroneous conclusions from the premises. Because a man 
says one thing, it is often supposed that he means something 
different. So, if a man is rich, it is inferred that he must 
have plenty of money, while the fact may be that he finds 
it difficult to get money enough to pay his demands. The 
mistake arises in the false supposition that because a man 
is rich, he must have plenty of ready funds. It is very 
important that we do not accuse people wrongfully, and 
that we do not declare that to be true which turns out 
finally to be false. 

Even when people are not actually careless in their in- 
ferences, they fail to reason on correct principles, or they 
do not found their conclusions upon a sound basis. For 
instance, a man is not necessarily a fool, because he does 
a foolish thing. It is in human nature to err, and the 
wisest of men are often guilty of the most supreme folly. 
A man is not necessarily brave, because he does one, or 
even a dozen, brave acts. Marshal Ney explained his un- 
exampled bravery by saying he never had time to be 
afraid. Some men do not see danger; others are brave 
because they see no opportunity to retreat. Some men 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 207 

are artful to dissemble, and we cannot tell what they are 
by what they do ; others appear delicate and feeble, when 
in reality they are strong. So it was with Caesar, as we 
judge by the following words from Cicero: — "I perceive 
an inclination for tyranny in all he projects and executes ; 
but, on the other hand, when I see him adjusting his hair 
with so much exactness, and scratching his head with one 
finger, I can hardly think that such a man can conceive so 
vast and fatal a design as the destruction of the Eoman 
commonwealth. ' ' 



OUR IMPULSES. 



An Irishman being asked why he fled his colors, when 
he ought to have stood his ground, said his heart was as 
good as any man's in the regiment, but those cowardly 
legs of his would run away with him, no matter what 
■effort he might make to the contrary. There is no ques- 
tion but that we are impelled to everything that we do, 
but some things are done with more consideration and 
reflection than others. In some cases, our impulses operate 
so suddenly that we are hardly conscious of our act, or the 
consequences it involves. In a certain sense we are not 
responsible for our thoughts, for they come to us without 
being bidden. Yet we are generally responsible for that 
course of life, and that developement in our being, that 
leads to such thoughts. The same is true of our acts. If 
people have not been properly educated, if they have not 
learned to control their passions or appetites, they must 
•expect to find themselves often prompted to do that which 
their better judgment would afterward condemn. But 
there is no question that many of these impulses, such as 
impulses to steal, or to commit murder, or some other 
•crime, are inherited, and it is a very great question just 
how much we should allow for what is termed the mania 
of those who commit crime. The question is not so much 
what is mania, as what is not mania. Everybody is at times 



208 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

in life guilty of criminal, cruel or wrongful acts, which can 
be accounted for only on the supposition that he has very 
bad impulses. We will not undertake to decide this- 
question, for we are quite incompetent for the task, 
but we have thought it proper to call attention to the 
subject, as there is room for great injustice in this- 
direction. We all know that we excuse some people on 
account of their mania, or ungoverned impulses, while we 
punish with the utmost severity other people whose 
justification, when the matter is carefully considered, is no 
less reasonable and substantial than that of the former. 



MASTEES. 



No person can command successfully who has not first 
learned to obey. Any person can give orders, but not 
every one can have them enforced. The first requisite for 
a good master is self-confidence — a wholesome trust in his 
ability to do just what he assumes to do. He requires 
nerve and will ; he wants physical, quite as much as men- 
tal power. A certain magnetism he should possess, which 
compels men to follow and obey him whether they will or 
not. Here as everywhere, there is need of tact, a certain 
skill which will enable him to strike his blows in the right 
season and direct them to the right spot. He wants also 
the confidence of those under him — confidence in his in- 
tegrity, in his ability, in his firmness and resolution, — a 
certain knowledge that what he commands must be done r 
or the transgressor must sutler the consequences. A mas- 
ter should always be careful to demand only that which is 
just and necessary. Few men have allowed themselves to 
become tyrants, and have remained successful unto the end. 
Napoleon and Washington were good commanders, but 
they gained the respect and esteem of their men, and never 
asked them to follow where they themselves were not wil- 
ling to lead. 

There must always be a difference in the status of the 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 209 

master and the servant If the latter believes himself 
equal to the master, he will obey only on choice or compul- 
sion, and never because he feels it right to obey. It will 
never answer to allow those under us to have too exalted 

an opinion of themselves, either as to their own power or 
the value of their services. 



HOME. 

The comforts and blessings of a home are inestimable. 
The home of a child is of great value, but the home of the 
husband and father, and of the wife and mother, is above 
price. Fame is nothing ; it is a bubble and a deception. 
Wealth is of little worth. It brings some comforts, but 
it bears many ills. Home alone affords lasting and 
substantial consolation. 

But how to make the most of home, how to get the 
greatest amount of enjoyment and satisfaction, is the im- 
portant question. Xo set of persons can live pleasantly 
and profitably together, unless there be a good under- 
standing between them. The first of all things necessarv 
between those who belong to the home circle, is confidence. 
When it comes to be understood on all sides that.honestv 
is to prevail, and that each means to do right, there is 
hardly room left for difficulty. When it once comes to b'e 
settled that the interest of one is the interest of all. and 
that the common good is the good of each member, peace 
and g< >od-will most certainly will prevail. Selfishness, con- 
ceit, envy and jealousy should never enter the family cir- 
cle. There is no place for them there. 

What every family needs, first of all, is a head, some 
one who knows what is right and will enforce it; some 
one who will see that exact justice is done to all, and 
that each member respects, in the fullest sense, the rights of 
the others. When this is the case, there is small room for 
wrangling or discontent. 

There are many sources of disturbance in the family, 



210 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

and chief among them is the failure to observe the rights 
of each member. There is too much inclination to use 
property in common, taking that which belongs to another, 
without even going to the trouble of asking for it. If the 
members of a family should extend the same courtesies to 
the others that they would to a stranger, a much better 
feeling would be found to exist than we sometimes see. 
There is no reason why language in families should not 
always be respectful, if not kind. It does not follow, that 
because one has met with some mishap, or has. been disap- 
pointed, or has a disordered stomach, the rest of the family 
should suffer from his rage or spleen. 

It is well for every family to be hospitable and 
courteous, but it is not well to confine their attentions to 
guests. It is too often the case that the best bed in 
the house, the best room, the cleanest table-cloth, the 
rarest, richest and most palatable food, are all saved 
for visitors who come perhaps once or twice a year 
and stay a day or two. They have the softest words, the 
sweetest smiles, the gentlest and most civil treatment, the 
kindest and most devoted attentions. The family at home, 
the father, the mother, the brothers and sisters, take 
up with the remnants and refuse. They occupy the 
darkest room in the rear part of the house, they have the 
shabbiest and least desirable linen, they have the poorest 
turkey, or perhaps, as in many cases, have no turkey 
at all. They experience, too, the harshest and most 
unkind treatment. Sour countenances, fretful manners, 
unkind criticisms, unneeded advice, sparse attentions, and 
conduct generally ungenteel and uncourteous, all seem to 
be reserved as most appropriate and necessary for the fire- 
side and the family. It is hardly necessary for us to add 
that we totally discard this prevailing doctrine. It is not 
the way to make home happy, or to render life what 
it may be, and ought to be, a source of steady and 
continued enjoyment. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 211 

PRICES. 

There is one principle that all ought to bear in mind, 
and that is, that what everybody can have, nobody wants, 
and what nobody can get, everybody wants ; or in other 
words, things are measured in value by the trouble it 
•costs to get them. What is easily got, is but little valued. 
If gold and diamonds were as common as dust, they would 
be valued no higher. Expressed in another form, things 
are worth what they cost, and cost what they are worth. 
What people work hardest for, they are most apt to 
prize, and what comes to them without effort and without 
study, is very liable to be allowed to slip away without 
concern. The value of things, generally, is the amount 
of labor and blood it costs to produce them. The liberties 
•of the American people are held all the more sacred from 
the number of lives that were lost, and the sacrifices that 
were made, in securing their independence. 



BELIEF. 

It is a very absurd thing to hold people responsible for 
what they believe. People believe what they must, not 
what they will. What a man believes is simply what he 
thinks, and what he thinks, depends entirely upon his edu- 
cation and past associations. So far as a man is responsi- 
ble for these things, so far he is responsible for what he 
thinks, and no more. To blame a person for what he 
thinks or believes, is just as unreasonable as it is to blame 
him for what he sees or hears. Thoughts and beliefs are 
directly the result of impressions, and our convictions 
have the same origin. To assume that a man can change 
Iris belief at will, is to assume that he can change his 
whole character at will. Men of opposite convictions can- 
not view the same statement alike. We cannot divest our- 
selves of our prejudices, our impulses and our wishes, and 
these have much to do with what we believe. 



212 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

" There is nothing that fear or hope does not make men 
believe." — Vauvenargues. 

"All our opinions, sentiments, principles, prejudices, re- 
ligions beliefs, are really but the result of birth-place ; how 
different would they be, had we been born and reared at 
the antipodes of our respective lands!" — De Finod 

" One is no more the master of his impressions, than of 
his coughing or sneezing." — Mme. de Genlis. 



KESISTAXCE. 



Xothino- succeeds without resistance. The worst mis- 
fortune that can happen to any new enterprise, or befall 
any new aspirant for distinction, is to be passed unnoticed 
by the multitude. A man must be opposed, in order that 
he may elicit sympathy. The people lose all interest in a 
man who always has his own way. The persecutions 
suffered by the founders of the Christian religion were the 
chief elements by which their success was promoted. 
Who shall say how much the Protestants really gained by 
the terrible massacre of Bartholomew? Without the 
sufferings which the opponents of the Pope first endured, 
they would doubtless have soon passed into oblivion, and. 
as the founders of a religious sect, they would never have 
been known. Men who have no opposition, soon sink into- 
obscuritv: so lono* as thev can have themselves talked 
about, they are really of some consequence, but the 
moment they pass bej'ond the limits of the public gaze, 
they are, so far as the chances of success are concerned, 
lost forever. Xo great man ever rose to his pinnacle 
of fame, without overcoming obstacles which to smaller 
men would have seemed insurmountable. 



COIXCIDEXCES. 



We often confound a mere coincidence with what is 
considered to be cause and effect. We naturally infer 
that what comes together belongs together, and where one 



THE STUDY OF MAX 213 

thing precedes another, we are apt to consider the former 

cause and the latter effect 

But two men may meet, as thousands of men do meet, 
without any connection or coneert of action whatever. .V 
man may take a pill and get well, and a powder and die, 
and yet it may be a very great question whether either 
the pill or the powder had anything to do with the change 
that followed. The sun may rise and the snow may fall at 
one and the same moment, and yet in these circumstances 
there is not the sliohtest evidence that the risino- of the 
sun has anything to do with the falling of the snow. 

People who are prudent, and who mean to be just, will 
be very careful how they draw inferences from unsound 
premises. Many people have been mistaken for others 
by mere personal resemblance or identity of marks. TTe 
must be careful what we assert, especially where the in- 
terest and safety of others are concerned. 

A fair illustration of coincidence confounded with 
something not accidental, is the following: Vennor, the 
celebrated almanac-maker, called at a livery and obtained 
a horse and carriage. Just as he was about to drive away. 
the hostler, to whom Mr. V. was a stranger, observed, with 
all seriousness : "If you will take my advice, sir. you will 
surely stay where you are for the night, for you will cer- 
tainly be overtaken by a pelting rain." Tennor laughed 
and drove on. But sure enough, before he had been o-one 
long, he was overtaken by a heavy rain-storm. Naturally 
enough, this prediction and its literal fulfilment struck 
him as very curious, and when he returned with the horse, 
the first thing he inquired of the hostler was how he knew 
it was going to rain when he started the day before. "I 
will tell you." said the man. " The truth is, we have an 
almanac at our house called Vennor's almanac, and the 
fellow is such a notorious liar, that whenever he promises 
us a fine day. we all know it will be directly the contrary. 
Now, your honor, yesterday, which was the 21st of June, 
is put down in the almanac as settled, fine weather, and no 
rain. I looked a* that before I brought out your horse, 



214 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

and so was able to put you on your guard. You will 
probably learn to believe a man when he tells you any- 
thing, after this." 



THE PRODIGAL. 



It is a curious fact in human nature that the prodigal 
son is always the most favored one in the family. Those 
who always do right never give us much concern. It 
is the lost sheep that we seek after arid toil for. The 
wicked who perpetually torment us, are the ones that we 
are most anxious either to reform or appease. We slight 
our friends and seek to purchase our enemies. The 
deformed child causes more anxiety to its parents than all 
the others that are perfect. It is the reformed man 
in whose progress we take the most interest, while the 
man whose ways need no reformation passes by un- 
observed and unheeded. The man who pays his debts 
has no claim upon our attention, while he that rarely 
or never pays, is uniformly courted and petted. Who 
wastes any time on those who can be forced to pay ? The 
goodness of good people is taken as a matter of course, 
while the goodness of the wicked is something to be 
appreciated when it is found. 

The Italians have a proverb worth remembering: "If 
you would succeed, you must not be too good." We 
value that most which has caused us the most solicitude. 
It is a well known fact that lovers when allowed to have 
their own way too much, finally become indifferent 
When people are permitted to come too near us, the 
charm rapidly dissipates. Touch is sometimes fatal. A 
little mysteiy excites curiosity, and is really not an 
unserviceable thing. When people know everything, they 
have no interest to learn more. A fair amount of reserve 
and apparent unconcern is a splendid possession, and 
sometimes produces the happiest results. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 215 

" Were we perfectly acquainted with onr idol, we would 
never passionately desire it." — La Rochefoucauld. 

Somebody has said that "a little wholesome bullying 
is not a bad thing." It is well enough occasionally to rebel. 
People who are too easily pleased, are generally left to 
please themselves. 



ABOUT FOOLS. 



In classifying mankind, the great difficulty is, that when 
we begin to count out the fools, we never know where to 
stop, it being quite impracticable to establish a line that 
shall separate the fools from men of sense. The worst of 
fools often do sensible things, and the most learned and 
intelligent men often do things of which even a fool 
would be ashamed. Everybody must have admired the 
sharp and pertinent sayings of those who are considered 
simpletons. If wit is an evidence of wisdom, fools, it 
would seem, have no lack of it. It is curious, too, to see 
how fond of foolishness we find even the wisest people. 
Foolishness is easily comprehended. It requires no great 
strain of the intellect to grasp it. It ministers to a man's 
vanity and conceit. It is a pleasure to him to perceive 
that there are some people who are less learned or less wise 
than himself. 

Fools have always played a conspicuous part in the his- 
tory of the world. They have occupied a higher rank in 
some ages than others, but they have always been treated 
with more or less consideration. The court fool is a charac- 
ter well known in history. For many ages, he was a dis- 
tinguished personage, entitled to uncommon privileges. 
Even Alexander the Great had his fools, but this class of 
beings nourished most in the courts of the middle ages. 
Some courts had two or three professional fools, and Peter 
the Great had as many as a dozen. So it is seen that folly 
brings a higher price than wisdom, or at least commands 
more attention. Leo X, Pope of Rome, was passionately 



216 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

fond of fools, and a man who appeared to be a simpleton 
was more certain of gaining an audience from him, than 
one who had become renowned for his wisdom. 



THE IMPEACTICABLE. 

It is remarkable how common it is, even for intelligent 
and cultivated adults, to talk and act like children. Peo- 
ple have, for instance, an uncontrollable appetite for the 
impracticable, the impossible, the incredible. They want 
to do things, simply because they know they cannot be 
done. They are determined to believe things, only be- 
cause they know in their hearts that such things never 
could have happened. And so it goes the world over and 
life through. Devout people send their hard-earned money 
abroad to the heathen, where they know it will generally 
do little good, while they pass with an absent-minded look 
the suffering and ill-fed poor whom they meet in their 
walks every day. This is an age of brilliant talk, and 
splendid resolutions which are never carried into effect. 
People discourse admirably and philanthropically on all 
•subjects, but when work is needed, they are generally 
found wanting. It is so with benevolence, it is so with 
temperance, and to a large extent it is so with religion. 
They are interested in perpetual motion, backward somer- 
saults and feats of legerdemain, but in. that which would 
improve the race and ameliorate the condition of mankind, 
they manifest very little concern. How much like the 
child they are in all this ! Who ever knew a child that 
would of its own accord do any work that would be likely 
to be of service to any one? Children will work, and 
work voluntarily like beavers, but it is only on condition 
that their work is understood to be play. Is this not the 
case also with grown up people ? The}' want to amuse 
themselves, and they think they are never so happy and 
never so prosperous as when they are amused. It is thus 
that millions are spent every }^ear, for diversion's sake, in 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 217 

search o( a worthless or impossible north pole. It is thus 
the search was kept up for the lost Charley Koss, long 
after be was known to have been dead. It is thus that 
people rack their brains and torment their souls to ascer- 
tain the burial place of the treasures of Captain Kidd, or 
the hidden location of some traditional gold mine. Van- 
ity of vanities — all is vanity. 



ADA r EKSITY AND MISFOKTUNE. 

Our greatest blessings are very often misnamed, and 
being misunderstood, are counted as misfortunes. Indeed, 
it is often hard to decide what we may properly call a 
misfortune. If we call a misfortune only that by which 
we have suffered something, or lost something, there are 
no misfortunes, for there are no pleasures not alloyed, 
and there are no ventures in which there are not some 
losses. And so it is in our afflictions. We suffer much, 
but we also enjoy much. We lose to-day, but we gain to- 
morrow. We surrender a little, and thereby acquire 
more. Misfortunes are unpleasant and unpalatable, but 
so are many of our most valuable remedies. That which 
truly disciplines us, or strengthens us, or improves us, or 
heals us, or saves us, is not generally a pleasant medicine 
to be taken, but its great efficacy cannot be denied never- 
theless. 

"What is it," to quote the words of Arthur Helps, 
" that promotes the most and the deepest thought in the 
human race ? It is not learning ; it is not the conduct of 
business ; it is not even the impulse of the affections. It 
is suffering, and that, perhaps, is the reason why there is 
so much suffering in the world. The angel who went 
down to trouble the waters and make them healing, was 
not, perhaps, entrusted with so great a boon as the angel 
who benevolently inflicted upon the sufferers the disease 
from which they suffered." 

" Adversity is the touch-stone of character. As some 



218 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

herbs need to be crushed to give forth their sweetest odor y 
so some natures need to be tried by suffering to evoke the 
excellence that is in them. Hence trials often unmask 
virtues, and bring forth hidden graces. Men apparently 
useless and purposeless when placed in positions of 
difficulty and responsibilty, have exhibited powers of 
character before unsuspected, and where we before saw 
only pliancy and indulgence, Ave now see strength, valor 
and self-denial. '' — Character. 

The fable of the monkeys and their mother is very 
instructive. The mother monkey had two little ones at a 
birth. She fondled one, and nurtured it with the greatest 
care and affection ; the other she hated, neglected and 
despised. But it happened once on a time that the one 
which was thus loved and caressed was smothered under 
the too great affection of the mother, while the other 
lived, grew up and became strong by the very neglect and 
ill-treatment it had received. Flattery and fond treatment 
has ruined scores of men. where adversity and ill-treat- 
ment has perhaps ruined only one. 

Our defeats are not defeats, if we profit by the lessons 
they teach us. " There are some benefits which may 
be so conferred as to become the very refinement of 
revenge." What seems a present evil may prove to be an 
ultimate good. 

We are only fortunate or unfortunate, happy or un- 
happy, by comparison with others. But if this is to 
be the rule, what right have we to complain, when there 
are so many others who are more unfortunate, more 
afflicted and more miserable than we are ? 

ki A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner." And 
Bacon has wisely said u that prosperity is not without 
many fears and distastes ; and adversity is not without 
comforts and hopes." In Seneca we read that "he that 
was never acquainted with adversity, has seen the world 
but on one side, and is ignorant of half the scenes of 
nature." 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 219 

What we need principally in this world is knowledge, 
and by far the largest share of that is obtained by ex- 
perience. Hence, we observe that we need experience, 
and the more we have of this, and the more varied and 
extensive it is, the greater will be our improvement. But 
very much of our experience, as Seneca intimates, must 
come through the misfortunes and mishaps of life. '"No 
man." says Dr. Johnson, " can form a just estimate of his 
own powers by inactive speculation. That fortitude 
which has encountered no dangers, that prudence which 
has surmounted no difficulties, that integrity which has 
been attacked by no temptations, can at best be considered 
•but as gold not yet brought to the test, of which therefore 
the true value cannot be assigned." 

He that launches his boat out upon the open sea, must 
certainlv expect some adverse winds in the course of 
a long voyage. Calamities of all kinds are unpleasant 
remedies, but they are sound cures for many diseases. The 
least of the benefits that we receive from them, is that we 
come off better disciplined and better informed. We feel 
stronger for our experience, and no doubt are so. The 
oak in the open field is tougher than the oak in the forests 
Without obstacles to overcome, no one can enjoy the 
delights of a triumph ; without resistance, we can never 
make an effort, and without effort, Ave can never be said to 
accomplish anything, (rod made this world in his wisdom 
and mercy : he placed here the good and the bad in their 
just and proper proportion. We appreciate pleasure only 
by the remembrance of pain ; so prosperity is only a 
source of enjoyment to us, on condition that we are- 
experienced in adversity. 

No one doubts that calamity, when it is not overwhelm- 
ing, strengthens us for greater exertion. People who have- 
everything to their fancy, have nothing to urge them, 
onward. " He that wrestles with us strengthens our- 
nerves and sharpens our skill," says Burke. Any old 
tul) will answer on a smooth sea, but it wants a strong; 
ship to breast the fierce storm. But then it must also be 



220 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

born in mind that continued coldness and extreme mis- 
fortunes often bring us to despair; support strengthens, 

and encouragement revives us. Sweet are the uses of 
adversity, and so may also be the uses of prosperity, if it 
shall stimulate us to greater exertion. 

Perhaps Demosthenes, when he had failed in his first 
attempt to speak in pnblic and was running away in 
disgust with himself, would never have become the great 
Athenian orator, if he had not been met at the door by 

an old man who said to him: "Be of good heart, young 
man; your style reminds me of Pericles, of whom I have 
so often heard, and if }~ou continue and persevere, you 
may yet equal him. ,, 

We are apt to take narrow views of our lot in life. 
How many men have laid the foundations of their success 
in what seemed to them at first to be their most serious 
calamity. The luckiest event that ever happened to 
Philip of Macedon was that when a boy he was seized by 
Pelopidas and kept as a hostage for his father's good 
behavior. It was at Thebes that he learned the art of 
war; it was at Thebes, too, that he learned how to 
be a kino-; it was at Thebes that he learned from his 
enemies how to conquer and subdue them. 



BAKGAIXS. 



Yery much of our success or failure in life depends 
upon the bargains we make. Sometimes we pay too dear 
for the whistle, and sometimes we buy whistles that we 
have no use for. As matters go in this world, a man is 
ver}^ foolish to undertake to buy everything that others 
offer to sell. The first question to ask is whether we want 
the goods ; and then, if they are worth what is charged 
for them, and, finally, whether we are, or shall be, in con- 
dition to pay for them. People often ask, whether know- 
ingly or not, much more than their wares are worth. Be- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 221 

sides, everybody sets a value upon things from his own 
standpoint, and this value is oftentimes found fictitious 
or fanciful The best of men, in dealing with others of 
■ordinary intelligence, consider it their privilege to take all 
they can get in making their sales. They may not intend 
to drive a hard bargain, but they do not feel it their duty 
to furnish brains for the opposite party. Hence, no man 
should buy what he knows nothing about. It is his privi- 
lege to buy where he can buy cheapest and best, and if 
•other men charge too high, he need not banter, but simply 
leave and buy elsewhere. More money is made by judic- 
ious purchases, and lost by careless investments, than in 
any other way. 

In making purchases, people rarely view the matter 
in all its aspects. It is the experience of every one that 
they buy articles they can find no use for, and hence things 
which prove to be for them of comparatively little value. 
Money invested in this way, is so much money wasted. 
"We should always consider, in buying, whether it is what 
we need, and whether something else would not please and 
serve us better. We should ask the question, what we 
could do with the article, if we had it — where we could 
put it. and what service we could rind for it. if we pos- 
sessed it now. 

In buying anything, we are not necessarily throwing 
the money away. That depends upon what we buy. and 
what we pay for it. If we buy what is valuable, and pay 
what it is fairly worth, we are certainly not throwing any- 
thing away. Some things may be bought as an invest- 
ment, and when we do this, we should inquire not so 
much whether the article to be purchased is what we 
want, as whether it is what people generally would want, 
for if it be something we alone want, we should find it 
impossible to dispose of it. 

Things bought for ornament are not valueless : they 
often give us more pleasure than things bought for use. 
Such things do not wear out. and they afford us lasting 
pleasure. . 



222 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

People generally want to get goods for less than they 
are worth, and they are constantly on the lookout for bar- 
gains. Like the rapacious hawk perched upon some tall 
sycamore, they are ready to pounce upon any luckless vic- 
tim that happens to fall disabled anywhere within the 
sphere of their vision. They are prompt to take advan- 
tage of any man's necessities, or any man's mishaps. 
There is still another phase of this matter of bargains. 
People like to banter and debate. They make it a mat- 
ter of principle never to pay what a man asks, if such a 
thing can possibly be avoided. If a thing can be had for 
a dollar, they will want it for seventy -five cents ; whereas, 
if seventy-five cents had been charged in the first place,, 
they would have declared they would not pay over fifty 
cents. What makes the matter worse, is that it is not the 
extra twenty-five cents that troubles them so much, as the 
determination to have their own way. It is for this rea- 
son, and no other, that many men will waste a whole hour 
in trying to get a discount of five cents. It might as well 
be borne in mind, first as last, in business, that no one 
means you shall make any money through him, if he can 
avoid it. People care nothing what goods cost the seller. 
All that concerns them, is what they can buy them for. 
There is no love in business — there is nothing but selfish- 
ness and sharpness. People buy where they can do best — 
and when they imagine they are getting better prices else- 
where, they never stop either for relation or friendship 
sake. 



KECTITITDE. 



Honesty is the chief of all virtues — we sometimes, 
think it is the parent of all virtues. An honest man is- 
the noblest work of Grod — nothing was ever said truer or 
more important than this. The reverse of the picture is- 
equally positive and well defined. A dishonest man is 
the guiltiest of culprits. A man who violates his word, 
has lost his riff lit to be called *i civilized man. A man 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 223 

who willfully deceives his fellow creatures, is a traitor and 
4i knave. These are all . positions that no thoughtful per- 
son will for a moment dispute, and yet the world moves on 
as if it had no confidence in their truth. A man may 
lie. he may cheat his fellow out of his hard-earned dues, 
he may. by his faithlessness, bring a whole family down in 
poverty and sorrow to the grave, he may, by failing to 
keep his solemn promises, ruin the happiness, if not de- 
stroy the life, of one of the fairest and purest of earth, and 
yet, with all this, he may pass for a respectable citizen, 
nay, for a Christian and a gentleman. But this is not our 
estimate of man. One guilty of such wrongs against 
society is no better than a thief and a robber — in some 
senses, not half so good. He may lack the acuteness of 
the one and the courage of the other, but he has all the 
baseness required for either of the two. Society is wrong 
in her treatment of evil-doers. There are thousands of 
criminals in prisons that are nobler and worthier than 
thousands of men that are free. The man who steals 
from necessity or inclination, or who commits a crime 
in the heat of passion, or through some u-resistible impulse, 
is not half so bad as that cool, deliberate villain who starts 
out in life with the settled determination to live on the 
earnings of his neighbors. We do not mean all those who 
do not pay their debts or keep their word — there are hun- 
dreds that are unfortunate and cannot. TTe mean those 
who never intended to pay, never intended to keep their 
word, those sneaking, miserable fellows, who start out on 
the broad doctrine that "the world owes them a living, and 
they will have it." There are a thousand and one ways 
of robbing a man — we need not always creep into his 
house in the night time to do it. If we get a man's en- 
dorsement to our note, it is often a more certain and easy 
way of reaching his purse than it is to stick our hand slily 
into his trousers pocket to rind it. Let our readers take 
these thoughts home to themselves and think of the matter 
— those to whom they apply, and those to whom they do 
not " There is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but 
the end thereof are the ways of death/' saith the Proverb. 



224: PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

We desire a reform in people's idea of right and wrong,, 
and a new adjustment of the dividing line between manli- 
ness and crime, between true Christianity on one side, and 
popular rascality on the other. We do not want a man to 
stand just as high in the church after he has robbed a 
community as before it — indeed, we do not want him. in 
such a case, to stand in the church at all. We do not want 
a man that promises and does not perform, a man that lies, 
cheats, and does other things, to stand just as well in a 
community of intelligent, Bible-reading and Bible-believ- 
ing men, as a man who does not. "We do not want 
such examples set and such lessons taught for the instruc- 
tion of our young. We want higher marks to aim at. and 
a higher platform to stand on. We want different doc- 
trines inculcated in our families to begin with, and then 
in our schools and churches, and in the world at large after 
them. Our young men that grow up ought to be taught 
that dishonesty never pays. Kemodel it, ornament it. gild 
it or disguise it as we may. it never pays. The wealthiest 
rascal, the most successful villain, the luckiest and most 
noted robber the world has ever seen, will tell us that he 
has learned that dishonesty, in the long run, never po:>j*. 
A clear conscience for a week is worth a century of ill- 
gotten gains. The most confirmed rogue we find, prizes 
nothing so highly as honesty in others. The young should 
grow up with no mistaken ideas on this point : an honest 
character and a true heart is the noblest and best legacy 
that was ever left to man. 

" Though a sinner do evil a hundred times, and his days 
be prolonged, yet surely I know that it shall be well with 
them that fear Grod, which fear before him." 



LIBEBALITY. 



It will not answer for a man to te too liberal. Many a 
one has helped others till he became helpless himself. It 
has too often happened that men carry out their fancied 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 225 

obligation to strangers, and neglect the real obligations to 

family and friends. God made man selfish, and undoubt- 
edly for some wise purpose. The instinct of self-preser- 
vation in man is the strongest and best of all instincts. A 
man's first duly is to himself, next to his family, then to his 
friends, and finally to mankind generally. It is proper 
enough that men should help others when they can. — 
They should do all that is possible to relieve the suffer- 
ings of those around them, but there is no obligation upon 
a man. so far as we can see, which requires that he should 
render himself miserable, in order to make another man 
happy. That would be carrying charity and sentimental- 
ism altogether too far. One man may be no better than 
another, but he certainly is as good. 

Again, it should be borne in mind that there are some 
favors which do not really render the assistance intended. 
It too often happens that those who are accustomed to 
' lean upon others for support, finally become indolent, and 
disinclined to help themselves. It is too much the case 
that the idle and the improvident cease to care for them- 
selves, and come to depend entirely upon those who are 
industrious and saving. It frequently occurs that all a 
man accomplishes by befriending others, is to enable them 
to know where they may call for aid next time. 

There are some kinds of favors that are not calculated 
either to strengthen friendship or multiply friends. One of 
these is lending money and endorsing paper for the accom- 
modation of others. Such things, as business goes, must 
often be done, but it is seldom that a man should ask for 
either, where the sum is considerable, without giving, or 
at least offering, suitable security. When we lend money 
or endorse in this way. we really enter into partnership 
with our friend, with this peculiar circumstance in connec- 
tion, that, with no voice in the management of the busi- 
ness, we share in the losses, but not in the profits. If the 
friend succeeds in the venture, he simply pays us the 
mone}' he has borrowed, and pockets the profits. If he 
fails in his undertaking, it often happens that we get 



226 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

neither a share in the profits nor any part of the money 
loaned. Another unpleasant feature in such cases is this : 
When a man cannot or will not pay you what he owes, he 
usually turns and becomes your enemy. So far from pity- 
ing you for the suffering he may have caused, he rather 
hates you. And thus it happens, that so far from making 
friends by your goodness, you have actually secured an 
enemy in place of a friend. Men hate us after they have 
wronged us. "Who thinks himself behindhand in obli- 
gation can to no man be a friend,'' says Cicero. And the 
same writer advises that, "it is the part of a wise man to 
keep a curb, as upon a swift chariot, upon the precipita- 
tion of benevolence." It is well to be generous, but it is 
still better to be just. 

There is no mistake which people are more apt to make 
than feeding their friends too liberally. There is a certain 
light diet that serves best for even our dearest friends. 
We can pet friends so much that they will finally con- * 
ceive themselves to be our superiors. They will certainly 
come to j)lace a lower estimate upon us for our pains. 
There is a certain modicum of dignity and self-respect 
that is becoming to men at all times. We do not know 
whether Esop had this idea in his head when he wrote his 
fable of the widow and the hen, or not. We think it ap- 
propriate in this place, and hence insert it: "A widow 
woman had a hen, which laid for her an egg every day. 
She finally came to think that if she fatted the hen more 
diligently, the animal would lay two or three eggs a day 
for her. She tried the experiment, but when the hen be- 
came fat from superfluous food, she finally ceased to lay 
eggs entirely. 



MAGNETISM. 



We hear a great deal about magnetism, something which 
some men are said to have, and others have not. We hear 
that one man compels another of feebler nature to do what 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 227 

he likes by his power of magnetization. We hear it said 
that some orators can magnetize a crowd, and by the aid 
of some mysterious power, can carry it with them. 

We do not believe that one man has any gift or talent 
that another has not, except in degree. We do not be- 
lieve that the power of witchery has been given to any 
mortal man or woman since Saul's time. Men come to 
exercise a wonderful control over their fellow-creatures, 
but this remarkable influence can be explained on the 
most evident and most ordinary principles. 

It is true that there are many weak minds that are easily 
overawed ; it is true there are thousands who are readily 
impressed and willing to be led. But leaders are generally 
ordinary, and sometimes very ordinary, men. They have 
more skill, more tact, more energy, more endurance, more 
audacity, more will — nothing more. These qualities, often 
possessed in an uncommon degree, will explain it all. In 
many cases where people are supposed to be charmed, they 
are, like the robin before the serpent, only frightened ; in 
other cases, they are carried away by some sudden impulse, 
.some ecstasy of delight, or extreme feeling of some kind. 



AGE. 

A person's age cannot be safely measured by the num- 
ber of vears he has lived. Some men are older at 
sixty than others are at eighty, as some boys at fifteen 
have more sense and ability at fifteen than some men 
at thirty. The true measure of a man's age is the amount 
of intelligence, vitality and manhood he has left. Some 
men are worn out and practically used up at forty. They 
are men, perhaps, of weak constitutions, or men who 
have suffered from unusual hardships or privations. 
Their ambition and activity have departed; they are 
prematurely broken down. But men of good tempera- 
ments and sound constitutions, men who eat and sleep 



228 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

well, and who labor enough to keep both mind and body 

in a healthy state, are in their prime at sixty or seventy. 
The most valuable part of a man's life, practically 
considered, is after he has reached forty. In the early 
part of even successful men's lives, it is mostly a struggle 
for subsistence. They are chiefly busy in building a 
platform upon which they may carry on their operations 
in after-life. Men in early life acquire not means only. 
but information. They learn those lessons, and acquire 
that conservatism, without which, success in life is uncer- 
tain, if not absolutely impossible. At forty, if a man has 
builded diligently and properly, he is fairly ready to 
undertake the business that he has set before himself as 
his life-work. Ten years following forty is worth, or at 
least may be made to be worth, any twenty years pre- 
ceeding it. 

In this driving, head-long age, in which " Young* 
America " promises so much and achieves so little, we 
think a great mistake is made in throwing aside middle- 
aged or elderly men as creatures whose work is finished, 
and whose services are needed no more. They are simply 
in the way — or at least, they are so considered by the 
younger ones, who are crowding for their places. But we 
need these elderly and middle-aged men more than we 
suppose. We need their caution, their prudence, their 
wisdom. They are not quite as rapid in their movements 
as their ambitious juniors, but they are a great deal more 
reliable. They have not as much dash, but they have 
more endurance. No, it is a mistake to crowd aside, 
as we do, our middle-aged and older men. Some of the 
best work ever done by man. was done by men over fifty 
and under eighty. Everybody knows that the glorious 
results of the Franco-Prussian war were mainly achieved 
by old men._ The Emperor William was an old man ; and 
so was his Greneral-in-Chief, Count Yon Moltke. Frank- 
lin's philosophical pursuits began after he was fifty. 
Dryden's best works were written in his old age. So 
were those of Sir Walter Scott. The great genius of 



THE STUDY OV MAN. 229 

Michael Angelo was active even in his latest years. Sir 
Christopher Wren retired from public life at eighty-six. 
Hobbes did excellent literary work at eighty-seven, and 
Fontenelle followed his literary pursuits with success at 
the ripe age of ninety-nine. Some of the best efforts of 
the Earl of Chatham in oratory w r ere made at seventy. 
Pizarro was not known as a conqueror till after he w r as 
tiftv. 



FBEEDOM. 



Freedom with us is a chimera. It is not what w r e think 
it is ; it cannot do for us what w r e think it can. A man 
really free has never yet lived. Grenerally speaking, it is 
merely a question of masters. Every man must, and 
every man does, live under restraint, and if he is re- 
strained, of course he cannot be free. The best state in 
which a man can be placed, is that Avhere he has a 
wise and good master. Is it not emphatically so with 
the child ? And is it not likewise so with the full grown 
man? No people can exist without government, but 
where there is government, freedom can exist only in 
name. The main difference between a monarchy and 
a republic, is that in the former there is but one ruler, 
while in the latter there are many. It might not be 
amiss to add that there is no tyrant in the world so 
inexorable, so feelingless, and at times so base, as the 
majority in republics. Men are not made better by 
multiplying their number by a thousand, or even by 
a million. 

As an instance of the false notions that may sometimes 
prevail for a long period, we might refer to the doctrine 
set forth in the Declaration of Independence, that all men 
are created free and equal, w r hen everybody knows that, in 
practice, nothing can be more absurd. The fact is well 
known, that no two men are created equal in all respects, 



230 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

and no man is created free in any country. There are, 
and forever there must continue to be, differences in rank, 
condition, powers, and privileges, in all communities. 



THE INCONSISTENCIES OF MEN. 

A sad looking and miserable dyspeptic called upon 
a leading physician, and asked what could be done in his 
case. " Oh," said the doctor, " you want a hearty laugh. 
Go and see Grimaldi." "Alas!" replied the afflicted 
man, "I am Grimaldi." And thus it often happens that 
those who laugh loudest, or make others laugh loudest, 
are themselves unhappy and melancholy. Men that 
run to one extreme one day, generally run to another 
extreme the next. Misery and happiness are so often 
united in the same person, that they seem to be necessary 
counterparts of each other. 

Cromwell, the death of whose son, to use his own 
words, went to his heart " like a dagger, indeed, it 
did," and who rode away sad and wearied from the 
triumph of Marston Moor, burst into horse-play as he 
signed the death-warrant of the King. 

King James was physically a coward, but morally 
he was courageous enough. According to Hemy the 
Fourth, of France, he was "the wisest fool in Christen- 
dom." He had "the temper of a pedant, a pedant's 
conceit, a pedant's love of theories, and a pedant's in- 
ability to bring his theories into any relation with actual 
facts," — but he knew how to wait and how to strike, and 
he met with a fair share of success in all his undertakings. 

Dryden had a large and steady income, yet was always 
in debt and begging for gratuities. He scoffed at priests 
and creeds, but much of his poetry had a strong religious 
coloring. A libertine himself, the two pictures which 
he painted with all his heart are those of the honest 
country squire and the poor country parson. And Steele, 
though he led a careless and vicious life, had nevertheless 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 231 

a love and reverence for virtue. " There is no man,'' 
said Voltaire, " who lias not something hateful in him — no 
man who has not some of the wild beast in him." Cham- 
fort remarks: — "It seems to me impossible, in the actual 
state of society, for any man to exhibit his secret heart, 
the details of his character as known to himself, and, 
above all, his weakness and his vices, to even his best 
friend." 

Xero and Domitian, great butchers of men as they 
are known to have been, were both intensely devoted to 
art. Prince Metternich speaks of Napoleon as "a man 
who united in himself the most different qualities in 
the most extraordinary manner." And Kuskin, in speak- 
ing of the English people, says : — " While the English 
nation with its lips pretends to teach every man to love 
his neighbor as himself, with its hands and feet it clutches 
and tramples like a wild beast, and practically lives, 
every soul of it that can, on other people's labors." 
He might have added that, while England hates op- 
pression, she is herself one of the greatest oppressors 
on earth. 

" Persecutors on the score of religion," says Lacon, 
••have, in general, been the foulest of hypocrites, and 
their burning zeal has too often been lighted up at 
the altar of worldly ambition."' And, again, " The learned 
have often amused themselves by publishing the follies of 
dunces : but if the dunces would retaliate, by publishing 
the blunders of the learned, they might for once put 
forth a volume that would not be dull, although it 
would be large." 

Talleyrand, who began by denying a God, demanded 
the assistance of the priest when death appeared. As it 
has been said, " he closed his career by betraying the 
Devil, and thus justified what has been so truly said of 
him, that he had successively betrayed all his masters." 
We might refer to the difference between Augereau in 
battle and out of it, and between Garrick on the stage and 
off. but we have not the space. Vicious men always hate 



t 
232 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

those who ply the same trade. Crassus who was one 
of the meanest and most avaricious men in the world. 
hated every one possessed of similar characteristics. 
Napoleon said of Bemardin St. Pierre, whose writings 
breathe the warm principles of humanity and social hap- 
piness on every page, that he was one of the worst private 
characters in France. " The heart may be feeble, though 
the mind is strong. To think boldly may be the habit of 
the mind ; to act weakly, may be the habit of the con- 
stitution. " — U Israeli. 

Generally, when people sing, they are supposed to be in 
good spirits, but it was not so with Napoleon. When he 
was cross, he was accustomed to walk about with his hands 
behind him, humming a tune as falsely as possible, and 
then few dared to approach him. "If you have anything 
to ask of the General," said Junot to Arnault, one day, "I 
advise. you not to go near him just now, for he is singing." 

Spurgeon gives us this lesson upon the shortcomings of 
some men. He says : — " We have known pleaders for 
generosity who were themselves miserably stingy. We 
have heard of persons who have been wonderful sticklers 
for 'the truth,' — meaning thereby a certain form of doc- 
trine — and yet they have not regarded the truth in mat- 
ters of buying, and selling, or with regard to the reputa- 
tions of their neighbors, or the incidents of domestic life." 

In Plutarch, the characteristics of Alexander the Great 
are thus set forth: — "He was brave and pusillanimous, 
merciful and cruel, modest and vain, abstemious and lux- 
urious, rational and superstitious, polite and overbearing, 
politic and imprudent, Nor were these characteristics 
casual or temporary ; the style of his character underwent 
a total revolution, and he passed from virtue to vice in a 
regular and progressive manner.'' 

Herbert Spencer gives the following, among other testi- 
monies, on the inconsistencies of man: — "Is it not a 
folly," he remarks in one place, "to go on pretending to 
ourselves and others that we believe certain perpetually 
repeated maxims of entire self-sacrifice, which we daily 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 233 

deny by our business activities, by the steps we take to 
protect our persons and property, by the approval we ex- 
press of resistance against aggression? Is it not a dis- 
honesty t<> repeat in tones of reverence maxims which we 
not only refuse to act out. but dimly see would be mis- 
chievous if acted out ?" " In the treatment of our crimi- 
nals, there alternate, or coexist, an unreasoning severity 
and an unreasoning lenity. Xow we punish in a spirit of 
vengeance, now we pamper with a maudlin sympathy." 



PATIEXCE AXD FORBEARANCE. 

Patience is not simply a virtue, but a talent A man 
who is patient, who bides his time, who watches and 
waits, who never moves till the opportunity is favorable, 
has a faculty with which to ensure success that no impa- 
tient or rash man can command, no matter how great his 
ability, nor how remarkable his powers. Patience and 
forbearance are quite as valuable in life as courage and 
persistence. It is often far more important to wait than it 
is to work. It is not so much to do, as it is to choose the 
ri2'ht time for doino-. and it is iust there that even o-reat 
men often fail. " Precipitation ruins the best contrived 
plan : patience ripens the most difficult" The greatest of 
men have known how to wait Cromwell, as Colton well 
remarks, followed little events before he ventured to gov- 
ern great ones, and Xapoleon never sighed for the sceptre, 
until he had gained the truncheon, nor dreamt of the im- 
perial diadem, until he had first concpiered a crown. ^In- 
vention." says Disraeli, "depends on patience. Contem- 
plate your subject long : it will gradually unfold, till 
a s< >rt of electric spark convulses for a moment the brain, 
and spreads down to the very heart a glow of irritation. 
Then come the luxuries of genius ! the true hour for pro- 
duction and composition: hours so delightful that I have 
spent twelve and fourteen hours successively at my writ- 
ing desk, and still been in a state of pleasure." 



23-4 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

We conclude by quoting the very just and wise remark 
of Ruskin : — " Patience lies at the root of all pleasures, as- 
well as of all powers. Hope herself ceases to be happiness- 
when impatience companions her." 



LOVE. 

i 

Love is tyrannical, as was well illustrated in the case of 
Dean Swift and his mistress Stella. Love is suspicious, 
exacting, uncompromising, selfish. The most infuriated 
and desperate haters are those who once have loved. 

Real affection can hardly be mutual between two per- 
sons who do not stand upon the same level. A patron is- 
not necessarily a friend, by any means. His favors may 
arise from pity, or from a desire to place his protege under 
obligations. 

The freaks of love are many and curious. For instance,, 
some people, especially women, fall in love with forbid- 
ding men. They are enraptured with an idea. Robes- 
pierre was idolized by both women and men, and yet he 
was a man with a timid gait, a shivering frame, and a 
mean and repulsive appearance. Mirabeau was terribly 
homely, and yet was fascinating beyond all men of modem 
times. In the case of Robespierre, it was the power of in- 
tellect ; in the case of Mirabeau, intellect and manner com- 
bined. Pope was of diminutive stature and deformed 
from his birth. Yet he was the most popular poet of his 
age. "After all," says a writer, "it is not so much beauty 
of form that enthralls woman's heart, as some real or im- 
aginaiy point of sympatlry. Common-places are hateful 
to women. Brainless, pretty men, can fascinate only gig- 
gling, bread-and-butter-eating girls." 



INDEPENDENCE. 



A man never loses anything by maintaining his inde- 
pendence. We always respect people who respect them- 
selves. A man need not always stand upon his dignity,. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 235 

but it is well for him always to have some dignity to 
stand upon. No true gentleman will ever suffer his 
rights to be invaded with impunity. He may forgive 
offenses, but he will never pass them by unnoticed. We 
do not believe in a man's being generally on the aggres- 
sive, but it may not be amiss for him to be always pre- 
pared for the defensive. 

People have a right to put their own estimate upon 
themselves, and, so far as they can, they may insist that 
other men shall respect the validity of their claims. 

He who does not resent affronts, courts them. It is a 
dog's part to receive insults, without some marks of in- 
dignation and resentment. 

Independence always pays, whether it be independence 
of thought, or of action. People respect those who show 
by their manner that they deserve respect. A man whose 
mind is his own, commands attention whenever he speaks. 
It is the servile imitator, the crouching sycophant, whom 
every one despises. 



HOBBIES. 



Hobbies are not such bad things, after all. They are 
doubtless disagreeable to outsiders, but to the hobbyist 
himself, they afford untold delight. Hobbies develop a 
man's talents, and are sure to draw from him all the ability 
and character he possesses. It is better for a man to con- 
centrate his mind and energies upon any one thing, than 
to sit down idly and do nothing. It was Lord Brougham 
who said : — "Blessed is the man who hath a hobby. " And 
it must be remembered that every great man has been de- 
voted to some one, or more, hobbies. The King of Mace- 
don made lanterns, and one of the kings of France made 
locks. Napoleon's leading hobby was war. Frederick 
William's hobby was a corps of tall soldiers, and the 
hobby of Frederick the Great was literature. 



236 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 



INGKATITUDE. 



When Aristotle was asked what was soonest effaced, he 
promptly answered, gratitude. It is one of the saddest 
and most sickening pictures in all history, to see the 
ingratitude of the world, towards even its greatest bene- 
factors. No man who benefits the masses of mankind 
should ever expect any adequate reward, nor any great 
display of thankfulness. As he benefits all in general, 
and no one in particular, of course no individual feels any 
material obligation resting upon himself. There is fre- 
quently a feeling of gratitude in individuals for favors 
received, but even that is something we can never count 
upon with any security. 

Montaigne says : "I see some with whom 'tis time lost 
to employ a long diligence of good offices ; a word ill- 
taken obliterates ten years' merit ; he is the happy man 
who is in a condition to oil their good-will at the last- 
passage. The last action carries it ; not the best and most 
frequent offices, but the most recent and present do the 
work." If we wish to avoid disappointment and anguish, 
we must become better acquainted with men, and allow 
freely for their many shortcomings. Men prefer to do 
what they wish, rather than what they ought. They will 
forget their obligations, and will not always render unto us 
that which is due. Ingratitude is one of man's most com- 
mon failings, and it is also one that is the most inexcusable. 

Ingratitude and treachery are twin sisters ; or, rather, 
treachery is one of the forms in which ingratitude is 
manifested. Traitors, like ingrates, are more numerous 
than is usually supposed. Napoleon found at least three 
.among his most eminent and most favored marshals. — 
These were Bernadotte, Moreau and Murat — the latter his 
own brother-in-law. Pompey was murdered by his own 
centurion, and Caesar by his most trusted friends. Wal- 
singham, who spent his fortune to save Queen Elizabeth 
and her throne, was turned away in disdain, and died a 
beggar. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 237 

The gratitude of some men is pretty well illustrated by 
Boyce, an English literary character of the last century. 
Dr. Johnson interested himself in this poor man, and 
frequently solicited alms for him. Once, having received 
a guinea, he bought some roast beef and a bottle of port 
wine, but Boyce when he sat down to eat, began to quar- 
rel with the Doctor, because he had not added either mush- 
rooms or catsup. 

Sometimes very small things draw heavily upon a man's 
gratitude. Alcibiades, it will be remembered, while giv- 
ing money to the crowd, let his quail slip from under his 
cloak, and he came very near losing it ; but one Antiochus 
found it and returned it to Alcibiades, who always there- 
after held Antiochus in the highest regard. 

But if there is the ingratitude of individuals, still more 
is there the ingratitude of nations. Men in a body will 
often do that which they would be ashamed to do singly. 
In the mass, their own delinquencies are hidden, and they 
are apt to excuse their own short-comings by pointing out 
the failures of their associates. This is especially true in 
the matter of ingratitude. No man feels that he is per- 
sonally under any special obligation to one who is simply 
a public benefactor. Hence, often, those who have served 
their country best, are soonest forgotten, or at least are 
compelled to yield precedence to those who are far less 
meritorious. Columbus at one time was loaded with 
chains, and in the end, he died in disgrace in the midst of 
the very people he had served to elevate and enrich. 
Sebastian Cabot, who gave to his native country a new 
continent, received but slight recognition, and is now 
nearly forgotten. In our own country, we speak bitterly 
of the treachery of Arnold, but we forget the ingratitude 
of his country, which induced that treachery. Congress, 
after Arnold had distinguished himself as one of the brav- 
est and best commanders, made five major-generals, every 
one of whom were the juniors of Arnold, while he was 
left unmentioned. Washington still urged him to stay, 
and Arnold did so, thus displaying a degree of patriotism 



238 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

at that time that few men — hardly even "Washington him- 
self — would have exhibited. At the battle of Saratoga, 
he was treated by Grates with almost unexampled mean- 
ness. In rank the highest officer on the field, he was, by 
order of Gates, deprived of all command. Yet he went 
on, and won one of the leading and most decisive battles 
of the war. For this, he received no credit. All the 
glory and renown went to Gates, who had earned none of 
it — at least none in that battle. 

Those who make discoveries of valuable products by 
which mankind are benefited, are often left to perish in 
obscurity and neglect. Colonel Sutter, the discoverer of 
gold in California, which enriched the State and nation, 
died not long since comparatively poor. Colonel Drake, 
who was the first man to sink an oil well in Pennsylvania, 
and the pioneer of the petroleum business of that State. 
made a fortune and lost it, and in his declining years lived 
in povert}'. 

Stowe, the famous British historian, when he had 
reached the ripe age of four-score years, was worn out, 
and had spent all his patrimony in rescuing, so far as 
he could, the important antiquities of his country from 
oblivion, received as his reward from the government, 
simply a permit to beg for a living. " There are, indeed," 
says Disraeli, in his " Calamities of Authors," "grateful 
feelings in the public at large for a favorite author ; but 
the awful testimony of those feelings, by its gradual prog- 
ress, must appear beyond the grave. They visit the col- 
umn consecrated by his name, and his features are most 
loved, most venerated, in the bust." 

But after all, ingratitude is justly regarded by all civil- 
ized men as the blackest and basest of crimes. He who 
turns upon his benefactor, is a much more heartless villain 
than he who merely robs a stranger on the high-road. — 
The man who fails to recognize and remember kindnesses, 
is fit only to associate with savages or brutes. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 239 

EXCUSES. 

It rarely pays to parley. The offer to parley is gener- 
ally taken as a sign of weakness, and the opposite party is 
apt to think the other side is frightened. Excuses are 
generally useless, and sometimes harmful. It very fre- 
quently happens that they add to the offense ; they irri- 
tate rather than appease, and they wound rather than heal. 

But this is a rule that can be carried too far. Some 
things appear more offensive than they are, and hence 
need explanation. Unpleasant suspicions may thus be re- 
moved, and things that seem dark at first, may turn out to 
be proper enough when understood. 

Much depends upon how explanations are made, and 
how the whole subject is handled. When a man proceeds 
to review old difficulties, he treads on dangerous ground, 
and has a delicate task to perform. It very often happens 
in these cases that "the least said is soonest mended." 
Sometimes, when he is so careful to steer clear of Scylla, 
he runs square upon Charybdis. 



THE MATTEK OF PKESENTS. 

The habit of giving presents is rarely the mark of a 
prudent man. No sensible man makes a present, unless 
he has some motive, some point to be gained, some aim 
to be reached. Those who have none, are simply idiots. 
But in many cases the donor sadly misappropriates his 
funds. What we give to a person is too often esteemed 
of little value, and he who receives it generally considers 
that the one who gives would have kept the present him- 
self, if he had not found it worthless. When the present 
is money, or valuables the worth of which cannot be mis- 
taken, the receiver considers the gift as so much reward 
for what has been done, or what is to be performed subse- 
quently. This is especially the case with presents made 
to employes. It is hard for them to conceive that they 



240 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

have not fairly earned all they have received. So far 
from always stimulating their future exertions, its effect 
is often the opposite. It gives them higher notions of 
their own value, and they sometimes come to deem them- 
selves quite indispensable. . 

Indeed, works of supererogation of all kinds rarely 
bring any appreciable returns. We may do these things 
as acts of duty to others, or for pleasure to ourselves, but 
rarely, if we expect to be thanked for them. The best 
way is to confine ourselves, save in exceptional cases, to 
a fair, proper, or customary reward for services rendered. 
If presents are made, the best of all are little presents — 
things to be kept as mementoes, rather than to be prized 
for their material value. 

There is still a more important aspect in which we must 
view the matter of presents. As a rule, the making, and 
still more the receiving, of gifts is immoral. Gifts made 
to men having position and influence are almost always in 
the nature of bribes. People rarely give at any time with- 
out hoping for adequate and prompt compensation in some 
way. Those who receive presents allow themselves to be 
placed under obligation. They must either cancel this 
obligation at some time, or feel that they owe a debt that 
has never been paid. It is for this reason that a lady 
never willingly accepts presents from a gentleman, unless 
he be a relative, or their acquaintance is more than ordi- 
narily intimate. The rule more especially applies to men 
in public stations. The fate of Bacon in earlier times, and 
of Grant at a much later date, ought to serve as a warning 
to all public men who are offered presents. Gifts may be 
taken by men in office without the least thought of being 
bribed, but it is always hard to make people believe, in 
such cases, that there is not something scandalous in the 
transaction. 

But if men will make presents, there is a right and a 
wrong way to make them. Those who give grudgingly 
or hesitatingly might better not give at all. Charles the 



THE STUDY OF MAX 241 

Second bestowed bounteously, but, in the words of 
Macaulay, "he neither enjoyed the pleasure nor acquirecjl 
the fame of beneficence; he never gave spontaneously." 



SILENCE. 



" Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted 
wise : and lie that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of 
understanding." This is what the Proverb says, and the 
Proverb is entirely in the right. When a man opens his 
mouth to speak, he always divulges his true nature. It 
is only the silent men that we cannot understand. Whether 
they have talents or have not, it is impossible for us to 
tell. If a man is blessed with a wise look, we are apt to 
take it for granted, unless he speaks, that he is really a 
wise man. How important it is, then, for men, especially 
fools, to learn to hold their tongues. 



COUNSEL. 



•• Everybody gives advice, some listen to it, none apply 
it." says Bougeart. Little thanks do we get for telling- 
people of their faults, or even for helping them out of 
their difficulties. It wounds the pride of people to have 
us assume that we are wiser or more fortunate than they. 
Philoxenus thought to do Dionysius a kindness by telling 
the latter that his poetry was poor. But Dionysius was a 
king, and having the power, he sent Philoxenus to the 
quarries to labor as a convict. And Democritus having 
eaten figs at his tables that tasted of honey, fell presently 
to considering with himself whence they should derive 
this unusual sweetness, and to be satisfied of it, was about 
to rise from the table to see the place whence the figs had 
been gathered, which his maid observing, and having 
understood the cause, smilingly told him that " he need 
not trouble himself about that, for she had put them into 
a vessel in which there had been honey." He was angry 



242 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

at this discovery, as it deprived him of the occasion of 
this inquiry, and robbed his curiosity of matter to work 
upon. " Gro thy way," said he; "thou hast clone me an 
injury — but for all that, I will seek out the cause, as if it 
were natural." 

It is often said that "in the multitude of counselors 
there is safety," and that "two heads are better than one." 
But this dej^ends on circumstances. The proposition in 
its broad sense is far from being true. Two heads may 
be better than one, or at least as good as one, if they are 
of the right kind, but when the counselors are block- 
heads, the smaller the number, the better. It often hap- 
pens that one man is wiser than a body of men, even 
when they are men of intelligence. Washington was 
wiser than Congress, that assumed to command him, and 
Napoleon knew more, than the Directory, from whom he 
received his orders. A wise judge may act more justly 
and more intelligently than twelve ignorant jurymen. A 
million of men may assert, as millions of men have as- 
serted, that which afterward was proved by one man to 
be absolutely false and unjust. Gralileo, Luther, Colum- 
bus, and all such men, stood ou£ against the world, yet it 
is now seen that they were right. 

We like this proverb: — "He that refuseth instruction, 
despiseth his own soul ; but he that heareth reproof, get- 
teth understanding." Or this : — " Every purpose is estab- 
lished by counsel : and with good advice, make war." 



MODESTY. 



There is a charm in true modesty, and it adds much to 
the beauty and attractiveness of any one's character, but 
for men who start out to fight the battle of life, there are 
several things that will be found to serve them better 
than modesty. Where there is so much striving and 
struggling, so much pulling and pushing, so much jog- 
gling and jostling, a man would be driven to starvation, if 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 243 

he did not leave his modesty at home when he started 
out for the contests of the day. He who steps aside be- 
cause he is modest, and lets inferior people go above him, 
will be very apt to have the satisfaction of remaining at 
the outer gates, while others are enjoying themselves in 
the inner courts. He who waits for others to audit his 
claims without his saying a word, or expects to be ad- 
vanced as rapidly as his merits demand, without his mak- 
ing any effort in that direction himself, has not lived very 
long in this world, or has lived to little purpose. Men 
usually have plenty of business of their own, and they 
find that after taking care of themselves, they have but 
little time left to take care of anybody else. 

While it is true that there is a true modesty which is 
desirable, there is a false modesty that is intolerable. — 
"We do not believe it necessary for a man to assume the 
attitude of a scoundrel or liar, in order to appear mod- 
est. It is not necessary for a man to call himself a 
fool, in order that he may seem to be polite. It may 
answer for China and the heathen lands, but it is out 
of place in any enlightened country like ours. There 
is an offensive habit which many people have of run- 
ning themselves down, that others may run them up. — 
To hear some people talk, one would think them the 
most abject beings in the world. They have no merit 
in their own eyes ; they cannot do anything well ; they 
are poor miserable creatures, fit only to be trodden on, 
like the crawling worm. But this is only a way they 
have. If anybody should presume upon this apparent 
humility, and take any liberties with them, he would 
find them biting like snapping-turtles. On closer ac- 
quaintance, it will always be found that such folks have 
quite as much conceit as their neighbors ; they only take 
this method of covering it up. But this shamming is not 
■exactly the right thing. We believe in men standing up 
for their rights and adhering to their claims under all cir- 
cumstances. If a man can do anything well, he ought to 
know it as well as anybody, and it is neither necessary 



244 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

nor proper for him to pretend that he ean only do it badly. 
If a man builds a good honse, or makes a good plow, or 
owns a good horse, there is no sense in his denying it If 
a man can make a good speech, or write a good book, or 
tell a good story, and knows he can, we see no harm in 
his pntting forth the claim, when justified by, circum- 
stances. Boasting which comes from conceit is offensive 
at all times, but honest claims which come from conscious 
power, is another matter entirely. There is only one 
caution to be added, namely, that men should rather 
underrate than overestimate their own abilities. 



VICAKIOUS SUFFERING. 

It very often happens, as we shall find in looking over 
the history of mankind, that one man suffers for the faults 
of his predecessors. Christ was not the first one, and he 
certainly will not be the last, to be crucified for the wrongs 
of others. Those who happen to be present when the 
embankment breaks, and not those whose carelessness or 
willfulness caused the ruin, are the ones who are usuall} 7 
overtaken and overwhelmed by the flood. Yan Buren 
bore the crushing weight of Jackson's mistakes. There 
was the case of Com. Isaac Hull, and at a later day, the case 
of Fitz-John Porter. Bacon suffered for the sins of his 
unworthy predecessors. His crime was, that he continued 
a base system which began long before his day. Ealeigh 
was only a scape-goat, or make-peace, whom England 
sacrificed to appease Spain. And so it has happened and 
been repeated thousands and thousands of times in the 
history of the world. 

Masses of men, like individual men, have their piques 
and humors, and woe to the poor luckless victim who 
happens to cross them while they are suffering under one 
of these unfavorable spells. Danton and Robespierre 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 245 

both wont down before the wrath of the multitude. — 
Wicked men they indeed were, but not half so wicked as 
those by whom they were executed. 



IRRESOLUTION. 



As Addison expresses it: " Irresolution on the schemes 
of life which offer themselves to our choice, and incon- 
stancy in pursuing them, are the greatest and most univer- 
sal causes of all our disquiet and unhappiness. When 
ambition pulls one way, interest another, inclination a 
third, and perhaps reason contrary to all, a man is like to 
pass his time but ill, who has so many different parties to 
please." Somebody else has said that, resolve what we 
may, we can always find reasons to prevent us from ever 
beginning, or if beginning, from ever finishing an enter- 
prise. 

Men stand more in need of decision than anything else. 
With the facts fully presented, every one should form his 
resolutions promptly, and act accordingly. Seldom should 
we enquire how much the cost may be, how much trouble, 
how much labor ; the only proper question to ask is : 
Ought it to be done? But Seneca has well said: — "We 
fluctuate between various notions ; we will nothing freely, 
nothing absolutely, nothing constantly." 

People lack not only firmness, but in a great measure 
courage also. They are apt to be too easily frightened, 
and too easily influenced by idle rumors and the terrors 
of their own imagination. Courage is a quality as often 
called into requisition in every-day life as it is upon the 
battle-field. People cannot be too bold in the defence of 
right, nor too steadfast in the integrity of their purposes. 
They should allow neither little things nor great ones to 
divert them from their undertakings. Let not the threats 
of the ruffian nor the menaces of power deter one from 
doing that which he knows to be right. 

Courage, however, is a different thing from impetuosity. 



246 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

"We should not forget the words of Cato, that "there is a 
great difference between a due regard for valor and a con- 
tempt of life." It is simply foolish to incur dangers which 
are unnecessary. People have troubles enough in this world, 
without getting into others which they might as well avoid. 
True courage must never be confounded with rashness on 
the one hand, or a mere dread of disgrace on the other. 
To measure a man's courage by his conduct, is not always 
either easy or proper. What appears to us as courage, 
may turn out to be the result of fear or despair. Some 
one explained the courage of the Spartans upon the theory 
that they did not dread death, since death would deliver 
them from their insufferable labors and their wretched diet. 
Most men are like the French, bold simply because they 
neither see nor feel the dangers by which they are sur- 
rounded. 

Let us quote the words of Sydney Smith : "A great 
deal of talent is lost to the world for the want of a little 
courage. ' Every day sends to their graves a number of 
obscure men, who have only remained in obscurity because 
their timidity has prevented them from making a first ef- 
fort, and who, if they had only been induced to begin, 
would in all probability, have gone great lengths in the 
career of fame. The fact is, that in doing anything in the 
world worth doing, we must not stand shivering on the 
bank, thinking of the cold and danger, but jump in and 
scramble through as well as we can. It will not do to be 
perpetually calculating risks and adjusting nice chances ; 
it did all well enough before the flood, when a man could 
consult his friends upon an intended publication for a hun- 
dred and fifty years, and live to see its success for six or 
seven centuries afterward ; but at present a man waits and 
doubts, and consults his brothers and his uncles, and his 
particular friends, till one day he finds that he is sixty-live 
years of age, that he has lost so much time in consulting 
first cousins and particular friends, that he has no more 
time to follow their advice. There is so little time for 
over-squeamishness at present, that the opportunity slips 



THE STUDY OF 31 AN. 247 

away. The very period of life at which man chooses to 
venture, if ever, is so confined, that it is no bad rule to 
preach up the necessity, in such instances, of a little vio- 
lence done to the feelings, and efforts made in defiance of 
strict and sober calculation." 



ACQUAINTANCES. 



It is a very important matter for us to extend our 
acquaintance, not only that this may be extensive, but 
that we may know those with whom we are called upon 
to deal. Unless we become acquainted w r ith men, with 
their habits, their peculiarities, their wants, and their 
weaknesses withal, we cannot expect to manage them 
successfully. 

It will not answer for us to form an estimate of a man's 
character and capacity merely by his dress or appearance. 
No safe rule can ever be given by which we can decide 
what kind of a man w r e have to deal with, by simply 
ascertaining the shape of his nose, or even by the cast 
of his countenance. There can be no doubt that a man's 
face, and probably his foot also, is shaped more or less in 
conformity with his character. But the matter is alto- 
gether too complex for us to decide upon with safety. 
There are so many points to be considered, so many things 
that may affect the problem, that we cannot tell, the wisest 
man in the world cannot tell, what a man is by his looks. 
\Ve can often form some idea of him by his appearance, 
but after all, we are so frequently deceived in our impres- 
sions of new men, that we count it quite unsafe to decide 
upon these things without deliberation. We must know 
men, we must see them act and hear them speak, must 
test them by the trials and temptations of life, and then 
for the first time we shall begin to understand them. To 
enable us to form a proper estimate of a man's character, 
we must see him in more than one place, at more than one 
time, and under more than one condition. A day or a 



248 PEACTICAL LIFE AND 

week is not enough ; we must give men a full opportunity 
to develop and divulge themselves. We are so often 
deceived in the worth and calibre of strangers, that it may 
be laid down as a safe rule, never to decide such matters 
until time has determined the facts beyond question. 
And even with this precaution, we shall often be called 
upon to reverse or modify to-morrow the decision which 
we had counted upon as fixed and certain the day before. 



CAUTIOX. 



It is well to be cautious, but not too cautious. There 
are many advantages and many disadvantages in caution, 
but caution is to be preferred nevertheless. Jerenry Tay- 
lor has said : — " Hasty conclusions are the mark of a fool ; 
a wise man doubteth ; a fool rageth and is confident ; the 
novice saith : I am sure that it is so ; the better learned 
answers : Perad venture it may be so, but I prithee, in- 
quired 

Persons who are cautious, are apt to see dangers before 
they occur, but, besides, they often see dangers that may 
never occur. People in this world, where they know so 
little of futurity, must necessarily take some risks ; but 
caution is always ready with its arguments, and bids us 
beware. Those who have little caution, have but little 
trouble about things anticipated. But when they come 
to unpleasant results, as they often will, they are likely 
to have all the more pain, because it was unexpected. 

Caution tells us always to be well provided against any 
accidents that may happen ; but things often do not turn 
out as we fear or expect, and we are apt to make more prep- 
aration, and to go to more expense, than is necessary. Cau- 
tion keeps us always on the safe side, though it is some- 
times not the most profitable side, nor the most pleasant. 
Persons who are cautious rarely become rich ; but, again, 
they seldom lose what they have already gained, and if they 
do not go forward with such rapid strides, they never ret- 
rograde. Cautiousness easily identifies itself with prudence. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 249 

Risks should sometimes be taken, but rarely ; and never, 
unless circumstances demand or justify the venture. We 
rind that great men are never reckless, never careless, 
though they may sometimes find it necessary to trust 
everything to fortune. Good generals never entrust even 
details, too confidently, to their subordinates. It is said of 
Wellington, that " he left nothing to chance, but provided 
for every contingency." We should never feel really 
sure of anything; the greatest certainty amounts to only 
a high degree of probability. The numerous accidents of 
life ought certainly to have the effect of making us less 
self-reliant and less positive. We are not even sure that 
the sun will rise to-morrow ; the time will certainly come, 
in the far-off future, when even this orb shall be no more. 

What need of caution, great caution, there certainly is 
in this world of accident and mistake ! We have plenty 
of illustrations of evil consequences arising from the want 
of it, "An accident," says Audubon, the ornithologist, 
" which happened to two hundred of my original draw- 
ings, nearly put a stop to my researches in ornithology." 
These drawings, made with such extreme care, and the re- 
sult of so much toil and exertion, once, when about to 
start on a journey, he left in charge of a relative, caution- 
ing him to look after them carefully. He was absent 
some months, and when he returned and the box was 
hunted up, it was found that the rats had made a nest of 
his valuable paintings and literally ruined the whole. So 
Newton lost a portion of his manuscript by his favorite 
•dog. Carlyle, too, once lent his manuscript, and when he 
went to call for it, he found it had been carelessly left on 
the table, and having been cast among the waste papers 
by a domestic, it had been burned. 

Never trust too confidingly to agents. Carelessness and 
excess of confidence are often serious constitutional dis- 
eases. 



250 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

TRUTH. 

If there be any lesson more important for us to learn 
than another, it is this : not to be too positive in our own 
opinions, nor too disdainful of the opinion of others. 
Cicero says : " Let them suggest things as probable, but 
not affirm them." In Rome, even what was considered 
most certain, the judge asserted with this plain introduc- 
tion : "It seems to me." 

" Truth is simply in men's opinions," says Pascal, "but 
not at all where they imagine it." So long as we live 
upon the belief that truth is a certain and invariable thing, 
we shall always find trouble. No one ever can or will be- 
lieve as we do. How shall we deny to men the right to 
their own images and thoughts? What can be more 
senseless, or more unkind, than to assume that everybody 
must of necessity see things as we do ? 

When the oracle of Delphi was asked what kinds of 
worship were most acceptable to the gods, it was answered ; 
" Those which are legally established in each city." The 
gods, we see, were willing to grant to each one the light 
to his own conceptions of truth and propriety : shall we 
not do as much ? 

Let us not adhere to our own opinions with too much 
tenacity. What we cherish as so dear to us now, is sure 
to be condemned as ridiculous and absurd by those 
who come after us. The most sensible and intelligent 
of the ancients, even such men as Xenophon and Plato, 
believed in things which to us appear fanciful and absurd. 

Truth depends much upon ourselves. Every person 
has his own peculiar conceptions of everything in nature. 
Every word, every sign, brings up to his mind some pe- 
culiar thought. " I have read," says Montaigne, " a hun- 
dred things in Livy that another has not, or not taken 
notice of, at least ; and Plutarch has read a hundred more 
than ever I could find, or than perad venture the author 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 251 

We shall get a better idea of the real character of truth, 
when we consider the strange fashions, fancies and concep- 
tions of other people. The Swiss, for example, are of- 
fended at being called "gentlemen," and prove the roture 
<l r<ir>. says Pascal, in being judged worthy of great em- 
ployments. Most people perfume their heads, but Diog- 
enes perfumed his feet. 

Truth is slow in coming to maturity, and we discover it, 
we do not create it. Perhaps no man ever succeeded in 
rinding any phenomenon really new, nor any important 
law that had not been discovered and recognized years be- 
fore. The principles of gravitation were discussed before 
Xewton was born. The circulation of the blood had been 
announced a hundred years before Harvey's time. A 
steam engine was made as early as the days of Hiero. 
Three hundred years ago a ship was moved by steam in 
the bay of Barcelona. Steam-wagons, steamboats and 
steam engines had been thought of and talked of, whole 
centuries before Isaac Watts was born. Martin Luther is 
generally considered to be the great reformer and the father 
of Protestantism, but John Wyckliffe had gone before him 
on this road at least a hundred years. In all these cases, 
the thinker was ahead of his times, and the people had not 
g-rown up to him. 

The tyrant Hiero demanded of Simonides "what God 
might be?" He asked a day to deliberate before he an- 
swered. And when called upon again, he asked for two 
days : and as often as he was called upon, he continued to 
double the number of days. Hiero at length began to 
wonder at this, and inquired why he did so. "Because," 
said he, " the longer I consider, the more obscure the thing 
seems to me.'' Such must surely be the experience of 
every one who seeks to find a final truth on any point, or 
a truth thoroughly mastered and really understood. It 
will be the case with us as it was with Simonides, the 
deeper we penetrate, the darker it will become, and the 
more time we shall demand. Peal, satisfactory truth is 



252 PKACTICAL LIFE AND 

not for mortal man to grasp. We can only feel satisfied 
when we close our eyes and refuse to observe the mystery 
that is presented. 



THE INSTABILITY OF MEN. 

" Man in sooth," says Montaigne, " is a marvelous vain, 
fickle, and unstable subject, and on whom it is very hard 
to form any certain or uniform judgment." 

"Everything has many faces and several aspects." 
One cannot tell with any certainty what a man will do 
by what he has done. The course of men is more uncer- 
tain than the winds or the weather. Two men will act 
very differently under precisely the same conditions. 
Thus, Alexander took, among his prisoners, Betis who 
commanded at Gaza when that city fell. Betis had de- 
fended himself nobly, and had caused great slaughter to 
his adversaries. The conqueror said to him, somewhat in 
a rage : " Thou shalt not die, Betis, so honorably as thou 
dost intend, but shalt assuredly suffer all the torments 
that can be inflicted on a miserable captive." To this Betis 
gave no return but a fierce and disdainful look. " What," 
said Alexander, " is he too stiff to bend a knee? Is he 
too proud to utter one suppliant word? I will conquer 
this silence. If I cannot receive an answer, I will, at least, 
force a groan." And Betis died a terrible death, dragged 
by the heels at the tail of a cart, in accordance with the 
■command of Alexander. 

But Pompey, although much enraged, saved a whole 
•city, on account of the virtues of one man, Zeno, who no- 
bly took upon himself the whole blame, and asked to suf- 
fer punishment for all. Julius Caesar's constant course 
was to reward his worst enemies, and by subduing them 
with kindness, make them his friends. He said that the 
chief enjoyment which he had in victory, was " in saving 
every day one or another of his fellow citizens who had 
borne arms against him." The Emperor Augustus not 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 253 

only saved China, who was a traitor and conspirator against 
his life, but finally raised him to the dignity of Consul, 
and made him his firmest and most faithful friend. But 
Sextus Quintus, when he became Pope, behaved very dif- 
ferently to one who had given offence. He had offered a 
great sum to find out the one who had caricatured him ; 
and the culprit presuming too much on the good nature 
of the Pope, confessed the crime. The Pope gave him 
the promised reward, but besides had both of his hands 
cut off and his tongue torn out. Of the Persians, it is said 
" they spoke of their enemies always as honorably and 
justly as they deserved." 

Some men dread pain as the greatest of evils, while 
others, as the monks, torture themselves as if it were the 
greatest of all delights. Some seek pleasure and rest, 
others flee from them as they would from the plague. 
Some dread their approaching end, and seek to escape it, 
while others rush on to it headlong. There is no thing- 
stable or uniform in the history of human nature. Aris- 
totle says: "No excellent soul is exempt from a mixture 
of folly." • 

Men grow long after their bodies cease to develop ; men- 
tally, they never cease to grow. They expand with the 
things about them, and from these things, they take their 
character and direction. As Cicero says : 

Men's minds are influenced by th' external air, 
Dark or serene, as days are foul or fair. 

Montaigne is right, when he says : " Whoever will look 
narrowly into his own breast, will hardly find himself 
twice in the same condition," adding in another place, "If 
I speak variously of myself, it is because I consider my- 
self variously." We do not sufficiently consider how small 
a thing will unsettle the greatest and strongest of men. 
Not the thundering of cannon alone, but the buzzing of a 
bee or the scratch of a pin, will annoy or disconcert him. 
We cannot control our thoughts, we cannot control our 
feelings, though we may philosophize ever so wisely. 
Pascal hits the mark exactly when he says : " Love or 



254 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

hatred changes justice. How many an advocate, well paid 
in advance, finds more just the cause that he pleads." It 
is an every-day experience that people from different 
standpoints, differing in education and habits of thought, 
and having different interests and wishes, look upon things 
with entirely different eyes, and come to decidedly oppo- 
site conclusions. " One passes from opinions to opinions," 
says Nicolai, " as he passes from age to age. So the most 
of men never come to live according to truth." Very many 
are like Cato's wife, who never kissed her husband, except 
when it thundered dreadfully. Cato adds, that he was al- 
ways gratified when Jupiter was pleased to have it thun- 
der. 

If a man does not have more than two characters, he 
must indeed be considered remarkable. He is apt to be 
one man at home, and quite another in public ; one thing 
in print, and another in practice. From among a hundred 
eminent men, we might select Sam Johnson. If we are to 
judge from the writings he has left, he certainly was one 
of the strongest-minded men that ever lived. As a thinker 
and writer, he has no superior in his own department of 
literature ; indeed, who will claim to be his equal ? And 
yet, in private life, none could excel him in weaknesses and 
whims. We must not be surprised to find this phenom- 
enon, repeated every day. We are too apt to think that 
eminent men must necessarily be noble men. But as a 
rule, it rarely holds true, particularly among literary men. 

" The rogue by fits is fair and wise, 
And e'en the best, by fits what they despise/' 

We learn from the case of the notorious Marat, that a 
man may be a desperate villain in many respects, and yet 
an honest man, and a man of honor in others. We have 
the truth in his own words : " Had I condescended to set 
a price upon my silence, I might have been gorged with 
gold — and I am poor." He was at one time one of the 
most powerful men in France. 

Of all Napoleon's marshals, no doubt the greatest was 
the intrepid Ney. None were perhaps more devoted to 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 255 

their chief than this same marshal. Yet when his master 
fell, he soon abandoned him, and made himself popular 
with his former enemies. A short time elapsed after this 
fall, and Napoleon again entered France. He came as a 
•conqueror. Ney was sent to intercept his march, having 
with him what was supposed to be a trusty and reliable 
band. He kissed the hand of the king when he departed, 
and swore he would bring Napoleon back in a cage. But 
ii little message from the latter, containing a few flattering 
words, and addressed to the "bravest of the brave," was 
■enough to quite unfix all his firm resolutions, and he did 
not hesitate to betray his trust and enter again into the 
service of his old leader. The Earl of Chatham made no 
scruple about supporting vigorously the very measures 
which ten years before he had just as vigorously opposed. 
So great was the pliability of Cuvier, not to say instability, 
he made himself equally acceptable to Napoleon, to the 
weak and despotic Bourbons, and finally to Louis Phil- 
ippe. This was one of .the most eminent and learned men 
in France. It must have required great versatility and 
.suppleness, to enable him to change his position so readily 
and so completely for three administrations differing so 
widely. The change in the sentiments of men is some- 
times the result of conviction, but often self-interest is the 
main cause. Men usually espouse that side of any ques- 
tion which seems most favorable to their own advance- 
ment. In politics, for instance, neither men nor parties 
can adhere to the same side of a question for more than a 
quarter of a century. Many who are the bitterest Bepub- 
licans to-day, less than twenty years since, were just as bit- 
ter and just as devoted Democrats. Napoleon, in his earlier 
days, was a determined patriot and a vigorous enemy of 
tyranny and usurpation. But that did not prevent him 
from becoming in the end the most relentless of despots, 
and the most daring of usurpers. Cromwell fought and 
destroyed a tyrant, and ended by becoming a most heart- 
less tyrant himself. 

Napoleon's estimate of his marshals changed with their 



256 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

success or ill-fortune. Politicians know what it is, in dif- 
ferent stages of their career, to be lauded as the best, and 
condemned as the worst, of mankind. Jackson, whose 
name is now honored by all, and who is admired by his 
party as a hero, was at one time generally execrated, and 
detested as a savage. Van Buren, Lincoln, Johnson, Web- 
ster and Clay are further examples. 

Nothing shows the instability of men in a stronger light 
than the successive changes in the ideas which prevail 
among people from time to time. There is a fashion in 
ideas, as well as in dress, and notions that are popular and 
prevalent one day, are repudiated and o}3posed the next. 
What men believed and adopted as true fifty or a hun- 
dred years ago, they deny and discard at present. It is a 
curious fact, that mankind adhere to no one idea any great 
length of time. To illustrate, it is fashionable now to be- 
lieve the earth is round, but it is not many centuries since 
it was just as fashionable to believe that the earth was 
flat. Enlightened men not many, ages since believed in a 
plurality of gods, but the generality of cultured men to-day 
believe in not more than one God — or, at least, in not 
more than two or three. At one time men believe in 
polygamy and practice it ; at another time a man who has 
more than one wife is considered base and immoral, par- 
ticularly if he has married them all. 

Fifty years ago a man who was sick was certain to be 
bled. To-day, the bleeding treatment is seldom or never 
adopted. Fifty years ago, it was hot tea and warm baths 
that were resorted to in fevers ; now, ice, and cold appli- 
cations, are supposed to be the best things in such cases. 
Fifty years ago, calomel was used as a remedy for nearly 
all diseases. To-day, calomel is discarded, and quinine is 
the panacea. Fifty years ago, if a man were sick, or par- 
ticularly afflicted, there were suspicions of witchcraft, or 
some other foul agency ; to-day, belief in witches is looked 
upon as absurd and heathenish, and " malaria " or " bad 
drainage," is deemed sufficient cause to explain most cases 
of sickness. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 257 

DEBTS. 

When Pittacus was asked what should be put off the 
longest, he answered: "To borrow money of a friend." 
We would not say unqualifiedly that no one should ever 
run in debt, but we do say that no one should ever run in 
debt when his ability to pay is uncertain. It should be 
remembered that creditors are the most relentless of mor- 
tals, and whoever falls into their hands must expect a 
miserable fate. 

To run in debt for that which we must consume, is 
scarcely ever advisable. A man may perhaps run in debt 
for property which, if he cannot keep, he may easily sell. 
But arrange it as best we may, debts will prove our worst 
enemies, unless they are managed with the greatest pru- 
dence and care. " Never run into debt," says Horace 
Greeley. "Avoid pecuniary obligation as you would 
pestilence or famine. If you have but fifty cents, and can 
get no more for a week, buy a peck of corn, parch it and 
live on it, rather than owe any man a dollar." 

Pay as you go, and you will never need either day-book 
or ledger, and yet, you will always know precisely what 
you are worth. It certainly must be humiliating in the 
extreme to be dogged by a creditor for a debt which you 
might as well not have contracted. This recklessness in 
expenditure has been a sad blemish upon the character of 
some of our greatest men. We cannot help a feeling of 
pity mingled with contempt when we read this part of the 
history of such men as Goldsmith and Fox. And Caesar 
was always in debt. Like so many others, he had much 
and spent much. Before he could go to Spain as gov- 
ernor, his friend Crassus had to become his security for 
five millions. We cannot help classing this failing among 
the most lamentable of weaknesses. 

No one likes to pay a debt. Every man pays cheerfully 
for what he desires and expects to get, but he considers it 



258 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

money lost, to pay for what lie has had, and perhaps has 
already consumed. Never borrow, often give, and seldom 
lend. 



HABIT. 

Habit, association, prejudice and superstition, have long 
been known to exercise a powerful influence upon the 
human conduct ; but with their precise bearing and value, 
they have never been fairly credited. Their operations 
are so quiet and unobtrusive, that their progress is unper- 
ceived. But the prudent and careful man never neglects 
to take these influences into consideration. 

Not only men, but all living creatures, do more from 
force of habit than from any motive which reason could 
afford. A thousand things we do every day from no other 
cause than that we did them yesterday and the day be- 
fore. We eat, we drink, we sing, we smoke, we walk, we 
talk, not always because we feel like it, not because we 
have reflected and found it good for us, but for the simple 
reason that we have got in the habit of doing it. When 
we become accustomed to going in a certain direction, or 
to a certain store, or a certain minister's church, or a cer- 
tain lawyer's office, we will continue in that direction 
until some stronger motive shall turn us aside. The law 
is the same here as with every moving body ; when it once 
commences to move, it has no more power in itself to stop, 
than when at rest, to set itself in motion ; and when it 
starts in a certain direction, it will continue to move in 
that direction, until brought to rest, or turned aside by 
some new force. If we leave out of consideration the in- 
fluence of habit, we will every day find actions and con- 
duct which otherwise cannot be accounted for. 

As men imitate themselves in matters of habit, so they 
imitate their fellow men in matters where habit does not 
direct them. We all imitate, every living thing imitates, 
and we are not sure that we do much else than imitate. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 259 

AY hat could be more natural for us than to do what we 
see other people do ; and what a positive effort it requires 
to keep us from doing just what things we see other peo- 
ple perform. It is not alone in gaping when others gape, 
or in grinning when others grin, that we are guilty of this 
imitative foolery. Why, a man never cuts off his whis- 
kers, or picks his teeth, or looks into the sky, or rides on 
horseback, or goes afoot, or stands on his head, without 
putting a dozen others in mind that they must go straight 
and do the very same thing ! Have you never been on a 
farm and seen a flock of sheep approach a weak point in a 
wall ? When the}^ come to a halt for inspection, not one 
moves till the smutty -faced leader has made the first pass. 
But then we see them start as if animated by a common 
impulse, two, three, then a dozen at a time, and over they 
go, tumbling in the wildest and most inextricable con- 
fusion. Here is imitation illustrated. In this little affair, 
behold the history of the world in epitome ! Shall we call 
this reason ? Such a word is intolerable in this connection. 
Among mam' other fables, we find this one : A certain 
fawn once addressed his father in these words : " My 
father, since you are so much larger than the dog, having 
horns so great and powerful with which to repel attacks, 
why is it that you are still so much afraid of this animal ?" 
Smiling, the stag answered : " My child, you speak truth : 
still I know not how it happens, nor why it is, when I 
hear the voice of a dog, I am immediately turned to flight." 
This is the whole story; we too often do things we know 
not wherefore, nor how, save perhaps that we have done 
them repeatedly before. 

We speak of things being invented, as if there were 
something really new ; but in truth, every invention is at 
best only an improvement on that which has preceded it. 
Nothing has ever been discovered, the like of which had 
not been known before. We imitate the works of nature ; 
we imitate the works of art. We imagined we had dis- 
covered the New World, but we just now begin to under- 



260 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

stand that some bold fishermen had been here long before 
Columbus — and others even before the fishermen. 

It is not the acts alone of a person that depend upon his 
associations ; his very thoughts and soul are a simple re- 
flection of the world around him. No matter how much 
of will or sense a man may have, it is not in human 
nature to resist the influence of the papers he reads, or of 
the men with whom he associates. If the papers a man 
takes and his companions do not indicate where he is, 
thej' at least tell where he will be soon. 



REVENGE. 



Exalted Socrates, divinely brave, 
Injured he fell, and dying he forgave, 
Too noble for revenge ; which still we find 
The weakest frailty of a feeble niind. 

Revenge has but little more to recommend it than anger. 
If it is more deliberate, it is likewise more barbarous ; it 
is less frightful than anger, and less violent ; but it has 
nothing more to argue in its behalf. It does not furnish a 
remedy for evils, but by the temptation it gives to retali- 
ate, it perpetuates and multiplies them. 

The pains which revenge would inflict, are justified by 
none of the motives which belong to true punishment, 
which aims only to prevent the recurrence of wrongs. 
Bacon calls revenge "a kind of wild justice," and adds: — 
" It is a prince's part to pardon." King Solomon says: — 
"It is the glory of a man to pass by an offense." The 
meanest man in the world can avenge an injury, but it is 
only a noble one that can forgive it. Or, as it has else- 
where been expressed, " The greatest man on earth can- 
not commit an injury, without admitting of a good man's 
becoming still greater by forgiving it." 

It is indeed a very unfortunate and erroneous impres- 
sion which many men have, that every attack must be 
met by a counter assault, and that the smallest offense 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 261 

must not go unpunished. No true man will follow such 
a course. If it be not practicable in the present develop- 
ment of human nature to love our enemies, we can at least 
despise and disregard them. No man can live in peace, 
who delights in gathering together and treasuring up all 
the little things that are said and done to his injury. Let 
him take it for granted that he must bear his share of the 
world's obloquy and slander, and then he will sleep none 
the less soundly for what he has heard. Unless the charge 
is serious, or easily refuted, a man should rarely step out 
of his way to publish his own explanations and establish 
his own defense. Solon has said that "the most prompt 
way of repelling an injury, is to forget it." Let us rather 
emulate the spirit of the Eoman emperor Antoninus Pius, 
who desired more the preservation of one subject, than 
the destruction of a thousand enemies. 

Revenge, moreover, is generally expensive. It is rare 
that the avenger does not suffer nearly as much trouble 
and loss as the one whom he intends to punish. When 
accompanied by anger, it is generally about as sensible in 
the course it pursues, as were those of wbom we shall speak 
in the following incident : In the late Irish rebellion, J. 
C. Beresforcl, Esq., a banker and a member for Dublin, 
had become so obnoxious to the rebels for his success in 
bringing them to punishment, that whenever they found 
any of his bank bills, their common cry was, " Be Jabers, 
we'll- ruin the rascal now ; we'll destroy every note of 
his we can find " ; and they actually did destroy up- 
ward of £20,000 of his notes, and by so doing, made him 
so much the richer, since he had so many notes less to 
redeem. Of very much such a man Esop tells us : In 
the same ship once were carried two men who bore a cap- 
ital hatred to each other. One sat on the prow, and the 
other on the poop. A great tempest arose ; and when all 
despaired of ever getting away alive, the one upon the 
stern asked the helmsman which end of the ship he 
thought would go down first. The helmsman answered, 
"the prow." Then the one who sat upon the stern was 



262 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

delighted, and lie said, " Now death is not troublesome to 
me, since I shall be able to see the death of my enemy 
before I die." 

But, while we do not believe in revenge as it is ordi- 
narily understood and applied, we believe it is proper 
enough for any gentleman to have it understood that no 
man shall wrong him with impunity. This is the law of 
nations, and it ought to be the law of individuals as 
well. 



LUCK. 

It was Hannibal who said, " You see it is impossible to 
do anything against the will of God." 

No person who lives long in this world, will fail in the 
end to perceive that there is such a thing as luck; not 
luck perhaps, as it is commonly understood, but " a des- 
tiny that shapes our ends," and forces us to believe that 
some things are possible, and others not. Some things 
cannot be done with airy amount of effort ; it is God him- 
self who rules all, and directs everything by his will. If 
it be objected that since God controls and energizes all 
things, there cannot be any need of labor and toil on our 
part, we must make this answer : our efforts are also 
destined ; they are a part of God's plan : these very efforts 
are God's instrumentalities. 

Now, we believe in luck ; we believe that many things 
happen which we do not expect, things Ave have had no 
hand in bringing about, things which come in spite of us, 
and which no human foresight can possibly prevent or 
produce. 

"This," said Napoleon to Murat, "is the fate of war: 
exalted in the morning, low enough before night. There 
is but one step between triumph and ruin." 

And yet we believe it is one of the weakest, if not one 
of the silliest, things a man can be guilty of, to trust to 
fortune when there is no need of it. PeojDle who are in- 
clined to wish and hope, are very likely to die in that con- 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 263 

dition. Trusting to luck is what no man of his own free 
will should ever do. No man should allow his fate to 
rest upon uncertainties. Men never can decide what for- 
tune can do for them ; what opportunities may occur, and 
what privileges may accidentally be placed in their hands, 
it is not possible for any one to conjecture. 

Our youth should be cautioned against the idea that 
everything is fortuitous in this world, or that most things 
that occur are merely matters of chance. There are too 
manv who are impressed with the idea that circumstances 
make men ; while, on the other hand, there is another por- 
tion who just as firmly believe that effort alone makes 
men, and that circumstances, that is, luck, have nothing to 
do with the matter. Both are evidently in error, and 
both are to some extent right. A weak man would never 
become strong, no matter how much fortune might aid him, 
nor how many opportunities might be offered to him. 
Even a child would hardly confound a lucky man with a 
great one. But, again, a man, no matter how superior his 
ability, can never do a great act, unless he finds something 
great to be done. He must wait for the occasion. Hence 
it is that every fierce conflict brings to the surface those 
who before were lost in obscurity. It is not in the power 
of any man however great, to create the work and perform 
it besides. We look at Luther, Caesar, and Napoleon, and 
we find that they were simply men who were ready to do 
great things, when great things were found to be done. 
Without the opportunity, and that is quite beyond human 
control, the strongest and ablest man would remain in 

obscurity. 

Life is a race where some succeed, 

While others are beginning ; 
"lis luck, at times, at others, speed 

That gives an early winning. 

Do we ever reflect how many men by mere accident 
come to distinguish themselves in a certain line, quite 
contrary to their own calculations, as well as the calcula- 
tion of others ? On the other hand, have we ever thought 
how few men are ever directed in a certain course in any 



264 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

other way than by pure accident, so far at least, as any- 
thing preconcerted on their part is concerned ? When 
some particular event does not revive a man, or turn him 
from his course, some lucky or unlucky thought, over 
which he cannot have the slightest control, may be found 
to have produced that result. No man, we venture to say, 
is ever certain in what he will succeed before he has made 
the experiment. He uses his best judgment, or is directed 
by some thought or accident, and simply " tries his luck." 
"We could scarcely name a great man, or even a moderate 
man, who did not commence life on a very different stage 
from that on which he closed it. 

How many men are born orators, or statesmen, or gen- 
erals, or authors, or architects ? A few, we may say, but 
they are very few. Washington was a farmer, and would 
have remained so, had he not been called to the command 
of the army by Congress. Napoleon dates his career as a 
great captain from the time when he was called to Paris 
by the Directory. Shakespeare, if he had not tied to 
London, and besides, if he had not fallen in with a troop 
of comedians and finally become tired of playing the part 
of a poor actor, would never perhaps have written for us 
those renowned pieces. Had not Cromwell died when he 
did, and had Milton never been imprisoned, released and 
exiled, he would never perhaps have written for us his 
immortal ' ' Paradise Lost. " Walter Scott wrote his best pro- 
ductions to raise money to redeem his lost estate. Luther 
was a poor monk long before becoming a reformer. 
Morse, of telegraph renown, was at first simply a painter 
of portraits. Many of our eminent men were ordinary 
tradesmen. What lucky, or unlucky, coincidences placed 
Polk, Pierce, Taylor, Fillmore, Johnson and Arthur on the 
list of celebrated men ! 

" Fortune," says Napier, " that name for the unknown 
■combinations of infinite power, was wanting, and without 
her aid, the designs of men are as bubbles on a troubled 
ocean." " Let no one rely on the wisdom of human com- 
binations," is the warning of a great conqueror. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 265 

It is well known that there are many remarkable, as 
well as lucky, escapes in war. In the last war, General 
Gordon was severely wounded four times in one battle, 
within an hour, and yet he lived "to fight another day." 
The following account is from the Detroit Free Press : In 
186-i a Michigan cavalryman, named Drake, was out forag- 
ing in the Shenandoah valley, in company with a comrade 
named Cooper. Cooper was in a smoke-house after meat, 
and Drake was on guard at the door, when thirteen Con- 
federates suddenly appeared. They were mounted and 
advanced at a gallop, part of them firing as they rode up. 
One bullet passed through an opening in the stone wall of 
the smoke-house, and killed Cooper instantly. Drake was 
standing beside his horse, and his saddle was hit by three 
bullets, one of which glanced through his hat. As soon 
as the trooper could realize what had happened, he swung 
himself into the saddle and dashed at the circle around 
him. The moment he happened in view, he was a target 
for carbine and pistol. His horse made a rush at the line, 
but was driven back. Followed by Cooper's horse, he 
galloped around and across a circle not over 100 feet 
across, all the time under a steady fire by the Confed- 
erates. This fire was soon returned by Drake, who fired 
away seven cartridges, and then drew his saber. His 
seven bullets, as afterward vouched for, killed two men, 
wounded two more, and killed one horse. His fire broke 
the circle, and he got out of it, but for thirty rods, as he 
made off, he was exposed to the fire of nine or ten men. 
Coopers horse w r as killed in the circle, while Drake's was 
hit no less than nine times, and yet not disabled. As for 
the rider, his comrades, on his return to camp, counted up 
a record of a truly miraculous escape. Three bullets 
struck his scabbard, two his hat, four went through his 
clothing, one burned his cheek, one raked his knee, and 
two hit his left boot. While one single bullet killed the 
one trooper, the other had sixteen fired point blank at him, 
and yet did not lose a drop of blood. Cooper's horse was 
killed by one bullet, while nine failed to disable the 
larger and more exposed animal. 



266 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Who will say after reading an account like this, which 
is doubtless true, that there is not such a thing as luck? 



JUSTICE. 



"Why does one follow the majority? Is it because 
they have more of reason ? No, but more of force. Why 
follow the ancient laws and ancient opinions ? Is it be- 
cause they are more sound ? No, but they are unique, 
and remove from us the root of diversity." 

" Opinion is the queen of the world, but force is the 
tyrant of it." " Justice without force is powerless." "Jus- 
tice is subject to dispute ; force is easily recognized, and 
beyond dispute." 

" Justice is that which is established ; and so all our 
established laws will be necessarily held for just without 
being examined, since they are established." We have 
quoted thus far from Pascal. 

Nothing can be more important for us to understand 
than this: Justice is simply a matter of opinio a. It is 
not something fixed and immutable, as everybody con- 
ceives it. What is just for one people, or one man, is not 
necessarily just for every other people, or every other man. 
Our ideas of justice must come from our ideas of right, 
either of > them founded on belief and opinion merely. 
What is thought right m one age, will not necessarily be 
thought right in every other age. There is not a crime in 
our whole catalogue of crimes that has not at some time, 
or by some people, been endorsed and encouraged as the 
height of virtue and justice. There is more than one peo- 
ple who admire the dextrous thief, more than one who 
find it right to murder their enemies, drown their children, 
and destroy the helpless and infirm. " Treason doth never 
prosper, for the reason that if it prosper, none dare call 
it treason." It all depends upon our point of observa- 
tion ; persons of different interests and education must 
certainly come to opposite conclusions on all questions of 
right. The judge when he decides a case, merely gives 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 267 

his opinion, as the law-giver before him gave his. It is 
thus that two judges decide so differently. In the end, 
the final arbiter must be numbers and strength. You must 
sacrifice your ideas of right, and receive mine ; that is sim- 
ply the fate of war. History repeats the lesson every day : 
the opinion of the strong passes for right, and the weak must 
succumb. 

The American colonies believed they had the right to 
rebel and declare themselves independent. The mother 
country believed as firmly that they had no such right. 
Who shall assume to decide for the one that the other was 
wrong ? 

We have so far considered justice as it stands in its 
relation to two contending parties. We have found it one 
thing for one side, and quite a different thing for the other. 
How does the matter appear for some disinterested third 
person ? He cannot always see that might makes right. 
For him, no doctrine appears more false or pernic- 
ious. But with what reason shall the multitude, which 
has one opinion to-day and another to-morrow, be pro- 
nounced infallible, while the philosopher or statesman 
who differs from them both, is decided to be wrong? 
Experience teaches us that numbers have nothing to do 
with just decisions. Twelve men of like education, prej- 
udices and tastes, are just as apt to be wrong as one man. 
Twelve men are no better for the litigant than* one, onlv 
as he has a better chance of getting from among them all, 
one honest or wise man. " The lion careth not how many 
the sheep be ; " neither does the wise man care how many 
the fools are. 

It must be observed, finally, that in every advance 
which has been made in this world, it is the few brave 
hearts, like Galileo, Columbus, Harvey, and Hunter, who 
battled for the right, while the multitude contend as ob- 
stinately for the wrong. It is wonderful, says a writer, 
how often we are called upon to admire as ingenious and 
true, what before we had considered false and absurd. 



268 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 



GREAT MEN. 



The power and worth of great men, men truly great, 
can hardly be overestimated. They lead, they dictate, 
and the masses would never move, if these men did not 
lead, did not dictate. We talk of communities and na- 
tions, but they are known to us only by name. All we 
know is the individual, this man, that man, some hero or 
some statesman. Examine the pages of history, and you 
will not find there what nations have done, but what 
some of its individuals, some of its great men, have 
achieved. You read of France, in the time of Napoleon, 
it is only what he did ; of England, in the time of Crom- 
well, only what he did ; of Prussia, in the time of Freder- 
ick, what he did ; of Russia, in the time of Peter the 
Great, what he did ; of Rome, in the time of Caesar, what 
he did, and so on through the whole list of peoples, and 
the various periods of each. So, in our own country, in 
the time of the Revolution, we read principally of Wash- 
ington and his subordinates ; and when we read the his- 
tory of our great rebellion, we see only what President 
Lincoln and his generals did on one side, and what Jeffer- 
son Davis and his generals did on the other. The rank 
and file who fight the battles, the masses who furnish the 
means, these will never be known or noticed. They are 
not known to us to-day ; and, of course, they will not be 
known to our children, or the children of our children, 
hereafter. Even of those who direct their hundred men, 
or their thousands, few are now known to us ; and of those 
who lead their tens of thousands, scarcely one will be 
known one or two centuries hence. 

It is a fact, then, that history and tradition concerns it- 
self only with the names of leading and eminent men, 
while it leaves the mass of souls buried deep in the dark- 
ness of oblivion. And of this decision we see no reason to 
complain. It is both reasonable and just. The masses 
count for nothing, they are nothing, they do nothing. 

When the strong-armed woodman levels one by one 



THE STUDY OF MAX 269 

the ancient an 1 mighty oaks of the forest, to whom shall 
we give the credit, to the axman or his ax ? To his hands 
and arms, or to the soul and spirit that moves them? 
"When the skillful mariner masters the storm, and by his 
energy and skill brings the boat safe into port, to whom or 
to what belongs the merit ? To the sails and helm, or to 
the power that arranges the sails and controls the helm ? 
If you have no question here, you can have no question 
when you find one mighty genius directing armies, or 
moving nations, by the mere nod of the head, or the wave 
of his hand. 

Masses of men are like masses of stone, mere dead and 
spiritless matter : they have no power in themselves, and 
yet there is no power without them. "Without power and 
will, they move not : they are machines ; they must be 
moved : there must be water on the wheel, or fire in the 
furnace. But, again, without this instrument, without 
this machine, what can power and will accomplish alone ? 

Masses of men have merit, then, we see, but it is only 
that merit which belongs to all instruments, to all ma- 
chines — that it is, and no more. "What do the multitude 
effect without a dictator and a master ? They never stir, 
unless some one starts first, some one leads — it would be 
impossible. A host without a head, would be like a lion 
without a brain. Such monstrosities do not exist in na- 
ture. Cease not then to accord to the great man the praise 
that is due to him, to the commander that leads his army 
to victory, to the statesman that carries his country safe 
through a crisis, to the philosopher whose teachings en- 
lighten and bless mankind. What men do by their instru- 
ments, their agents, they do by themselves. 

We see then clearly what makes a nation great ; it is 
her eminent men. "We see, too, what constitutes greatness ; 
it is genius and wilL 

There is besides another phase of this subject, one which 
perhaps we should hardly expect -without some reflection 
and inquiry. The great man is a representative man ; he 
represents in himself the multitude that give him their de- 



270 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

votion and follow his direction. They follow him from 
sympathy, from the harmony which exists between his 
thoughts and theirs. Individually, he has no more power 
over their direction 'than the sun has, or the moon ; they 
follow his principles, his ideas, and they do it voluntarily — 
there can be no compulsion about this matter. They fol- 
low them, because these are their principles, and because 
his ideas are their ideas also. He is moved by the same 
spirit that moves the multitude, by the same impulse, and 
if he were not so moved, he would never be a great man. 
He who is in advance of the mass, is no greater man than 
one who is behind it. It is said that Caesar with all his 
greatness, had not the power to introduce one new word. 
Nothing can be introduced that is new to the people, un- 
less it harmonizes with their feelings and strikes them with 
favor. Again, we say, the masses cannot be compelled. It 
is equally true in fashions, in revolutions, and in move- 
ments of all kinds. 

If it be true that the masses never move unless they are 
led, so it is also true that they can only be led where and 
as they choose — there is a mysterious harmony between 
the leader and his followers. When you see a Napoleon, 
a Caesar, a Mahomet, a Cromwell, a Luther, a Newton, a. 
Henry, a Lincoln, a Davis, taking the lead and a people 
following them, you may conclude with certainty that 
these men have risen at precisely the right time, and that 
they represent fully and perfectly the views and wishes of 
the masses that follow them. They came not a day too 
soon, they lived not a day too long. And what did Napo- 
leon say, that stupendous genius, upon whom we still gaze 
with wonder and admiration ? Some one was cautioning- 
him to watch attentively over the training of his son, in 
order that he might be able to replace the father. " Ee- 
place me," said Napoleon, in that awful, ever impressive 
manner of his, " replace me ! I could not replace myself. 
I am the child of circumstances" Behold the thoughts and 
feelings of that prince of famous men ! Behold the in- 
spired and prophetic manner of his expression ! He rep- 



THE STUDY OF' MAX. 271 

resents faithfully the spirit that characterizes all great 
men. All of them have this feeling of inspiration ; all of 
them are believers in fate : all of them are superstitious ; 
all of them rely upon stars and their destiny. It is im- 
possible for them not to feel their own nothingness, not to 
see that the power they have is not their own, and that 
they are only instruments in the hands of destiny. With- 
out the kind and helping hand of fate, their genius and 
energy would not avail them. It was the happiness of 
Caesar and Alexander to perish with the end of their 
labors : it was Xapoleon's misfortune to outlive his destiny. 
Had he died before his expedition to Eussia, he would 
have passed in the world for a more successful man, 
though he might not have been for all that a greater one. 
But it is not the great captain or the great statesman 
alone that we must consider as a representative man ; the 
philosopher, the thinker, the inventor, the discoverer is 
quite as much a representative man. It is a very rare 
thing, perhaps an impossible thing, that any man should 
be, in any true sense, the originator of anything. These 
discoveries are generally, if not always due, as Mr. Airy 
said of the planet Xeptune, "to a movement of the age." 
Discoveries belong to the race, and not to the man. A 
man may say what he likes, and invent what he will, yet 
if it is not in harmony with the thought of the people, it is 
just so much time wasted. Inventors, innovators, origina- 
tors, can neither direct the masses nor compel them ; they 
may keep even with them, but they can do little more. 
People, the masses, are not taught : they learn, they grow, 
they develop from within. So every man grows, every 
man learns. It seems not to have been reserved for any 
man to have " a thought unthouorht before." The idea of 
a Western world, for example, did not by any means 
originate with Columbus ; the whole civilized world was 
at that time pregnant with the same idea. The use and 
power of magnifying glasses were known long before 
Galileo invented the telescope. Fulton has the credit of 
being the first one who thought of a steamboat, or at least 



272 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

the first who thought of making one. And yet the idea 
of propelling boats and carriages by means of steam had 
been thought of and talked of many years before his day 
or generation. Years before the time of Fulton's steam- 
boat, Nathan Eead, once Professor of Mathematics in Har- 
vard University, got out a patent, and even made the 
trial of propelling carriages and boats by means of steam. 
Many a man is pronounced in emphatic terms " the first 
discoverer," who is merely the one first known, or the only 
one we remember. When we talk about first discoverers, 
it is very well to bear in mind that the old Greeks, and 
the Komans, the Chinese, the Arabs, the Egyptians, the 
Persians, the Hindoos, knew a few things as well as we, 
and that they also had some discoverers of their own. It 
must very often happen, when we take into account what 
was done in ancient times, that our great originators can 
have but little better claim to their honors than the one 
who demanded a reward " because he was the second one 
who called out fire first." 

But let us come a little closer to the great man ; let us 
examine him carefully ; let us follow him to his home, his 
secret haunts ; let us see him as he lets himself down from 
those airy heights in which we have been wont to see him 
in the world ; let us observe him as he descends to the 
level of common mortals. Behold, he eats like other 
men, he sleeps like other men ; he has the vices of other 
men, and the weaknesses of other men. The charm is 
broken, the curtain rises. It is the same old story: no 
man is a hero to his valet. What we had mistaken for a 
real lion through and through, is merely the semblance of 
one. It is a lion only upon the outside. 

The greatest men have committed the greatest blunders. 
]STo mistake was ever so prodigious in its consequences as 
Napoleon's disastrous expedition to Moscow. 'Frederick 
the Great's early military career was marked by a succes- 
sion of blunders. Many men are great only in subordi- 
nate places. Left to rely entirely upon their own talents, 
they uniformly fail. There are plenty of men who can 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 273 

command a corps or a division, and do it grandly, but left 
to direct an army, with no help from some abler mind, 
their want of capacity would soon be manifest. Such 
men as Alexander, Caesar, Cromwell and Napoleon appear 
only at long intervals, and when they die, there is no one 
to replace them. 

We are constantly reminded of the truth that there are 
no really great men, though there are indeed many who 
do great things. We see every day the most ordinary 
men do the most extraordinary things. Who will tell us 
what great actions certainly require great men ? Is it to 
command an army in time of battle ? Very common men 
have done wonders in this department. Washington com- 
manded our armies, in the days of the Revolution, with 
most wonderful success, and yet he was in no sense a re- 
markable man, excepts perhaps in his imperturbable 
gravity and commanding mien. Winfield. Scott was a 
great soldier, but a moderate man otherwise ; the same 
may be said of Lord Wellington. We hear everybody 
say who knew General Grant before the war, that they 
always considered him an ordinary man, and they confess 
themselves surprised to find him capable of doing such 
wonderful things. The truth of it is, that aside from a 
few splendid qualities for a commanding officer, General 
Grant always was, and still is, simply an ordinary man. 

We see, then, that we clo not always need to have 
great men to make great generals. But must we have 
great men to conduct a State ? Women have clone that, 
and often to the surprise and admiration of the world. 
The monarch s of Europe have generally been mode- 
rate men. Our presidents, without a single exception, 
have been second, third, or fourth rate men, and yet all 
have conducted the affairs of our government with credit 
and success, and some even with eclat, Everywhere we 
see ordinary men write good books, even great books, 
make great discoveries and originate great measures, be- 
come great physicians and lawyers, successful merchants 
and wealthy men, keep good schools, conduct an extensive 



274 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

business, and become eminent in the highest sense of the 
term. Indeed, when we come to consider what great 
works are done by little men, men with really little 
minds, we begin to wonder if we must not take new views 
of greatness. 

Let not great men deceive us : they are at best only the 
creatures of a day. They have perhaps a few great gifts, 
but they have many lamentable weaknesses besides. A 
truly great man should have no vices, no failings, no 
weaknesses. But where do we find them? There are 
too many men of whom it may be said, as was said of 
Gibbon, " He had a stock of erudition that might have 
puzzled a doctor, and a degree of ignorance of which a 
school-boy might have been ashamed ; " or as we read in 
another place, " few generous and elevated acts are told of 
him." Coleridge has been called "the greatest genius, 
and the greatest infant of modern times." Among other 
things, he left his wife and child to be supported by poor 
Southey, while he himself wandered about the country in 
dreamy idleness, a poor pensioner on the bounty of his 
friends. Charles Lamb was a great writer, but a most 
feeble man otherwise. He is spoken of as the simple per- 
son who "cried at weddings and laughed at funerals." 
Edgar Allen Poe, who wrote the " Raven," and many 
other things as good, had the pitiable qualities of a little 
man. A drunkard most of his days, he died at an early 
age from the effects of a drunken spree in the city of 
Baltimore. Of Goldsmith, poor Goldsmith, as he was 
called, who has left us such beautiful pages in prose and 
verse, Johnson has left us this remark : " No man is more 
foolish than Goldsmith when he has not a pen in his hand, 
and no one is more wise when he has/' Of the French 
naturalist Buffon, who was vain enough to call himself 
one of the five great men of the world, we read that " his 
conversation was trifling and licentious, and the grossness 
which too often discloses itself in his writings, was ill-con- 
cealed in his conduct. He paid the most minute attention 
to dress, and delighted in walking to church to exhibit 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 275 

his finery to his wondering countrymen." Burke spoke 
of Charles James Fox as " the most brilliant and 
successful debater the world ever saw ; " and some 
one else has added, "and the most noted spend- 
thrift of his time. He lived in perpetual fear of bai- 
liffs." We might mention that Sheridan, the man whose 
splendid talents gave him such great renown, was the 
lowest of drunkards. Bacon we read of as " the wisest, 
greatest, meanest of mankind." If we are to believe 
Lord Byron in his " English Bards and Scotch Keview- 
ers," the literary men of his day were the most unprinci- 
pled and miserable race of men then living. Whether 
the stock has improved any since then, we would not 
presume to say. It does hardly seem that learning and 
wisdom make men nobler. Let a man be as wise as 
he will, says Montaigne, he is still a man. Fouche, the 
celebrated French diplomatist, was pronounced by Napo- 
leon "a miscreant of all colors." Augereau was a mean and 
miserable villain, and the celebrated Murat was certainly 
not a man of lofty sentiments. Voltaire, that brilliant 
writer, was a man of excessive meanness. Benedict Arnold, 
whose detestable character, aside from his treachery, we 
all know, was not, in military genius and ability, inferior 
to any general of the Ee volution. Cromwell was the 
prince of hypocrites, as well as king of men. He was justly 
pronounced by his physicians to be " a vaporous and fan- 
ciful hypochondriac." He was crazy! How many other 
celebrated men have likewise been crazy ! Dr. Bobert 
Hunter was a very celebrated writer of his day, yet he is 
said to have been in public a mere shadow of a man. He 
pulled off his hat to his own wife in the streets, and apolo- 
gized for not having the pleasure of her acquaintance. He 
went to his class in college with one of his wife's white 
stockings on one leg, and his own black one on the other. 
He often spent the whole time of the meeting in moving 
from the table the hats of the students, which they as often 
returned. He would run against a cow in the road, turn 
around, beg her pardon, Madam, and hope she was not 



276 PKACTICAL LIFE AND 

hurt ; and if lie chanced to run against a post, lie com- 
menced chiding it for not getting out of the way. Sir 
Isaac Newton was so absent-minded that he had to be told 
when it was time to eat. And we are more than half in- 
clined to believe what Addison says, that " if the minds 
of men were laid open, we should see but little difference 
between that of a wise man and that of a fool. There are 
infinite reveries, numberless extravagancies, and a succes- 
sion of vanities which pass through both." 

To speak of the mere whims, the freaks and the fancies 
of great men would require all the space of a small vol- 
ume. We will barely touch upon a few. Thus, Dr. 
Johnson, England's greatest author, had a thousand little 
whims and a great multitude of ridiculous superstitions. 
Among other things, he was always careful to go out of a 
house by a certain number of steps, and in such a manner 
that his right foot should make the first step when he 
came to the door. If he should happen to make a mis- 
take, and the matter did not turn out right, he would be 
sure to go back and try it over again. The great Kepler 
and Tycho Brahe were much devoted to the study of 
astrology, and, indeed, made most of their living by this 
kind of fortune-telling. Sir Matthew Hale and Cotton 
Mather were both celebrated men, but they had a terrible 
dread of witches. It has been the misfortune of many 
eminent men to be compelled to devote a large share of 
their time to fighting devils. We might name Bunyan, 
who kicked at the devils he heard behind him ; Sweden- 
borg, who fought devils by the legion, and Luther, who 
was eternally annoyed by them. Wesley was troubled 
about haunted houses, and Sir Henry Vane believed that 
he was destined to rule in the millennium. Eeally, Dry den 
is right : 

Great wits are sure to madness near allied, 
And thin partitions do their bounds divide. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 277 

NAMES. 

A rose by any other name will not smell as sweet, 
Shakespeare's authority to the contrary notwithstanding. 
A name carries with it an idea, and an odious name leaves 
an odious impression. Names are very important things, 
indeed, among the most, important things in the world. 
Does not every one know that very many things pass by 
their names alone? A thing acceptable to the people 
under one title, would be intolerable under another. The 
Eomans were willing that Caesar should have all the power 
of an emperor, but they could not consent to his hav- 
ing the name. A man can be a tyrant, if he can only 
succeed in having himself called a clever man. Napoleon 
got to be emperor by passing for a republican. The 
names of many books have ruined them, as epithets and 
nicknames have ruined many men. On the other hand, 
other names have brought men and books into notice. 
Many articles are sold with no other recommendation than 
the labels they bear. Indeed, there is everything in a 
name. If a man can succeed in having his enemy called 
by some wicked nickname, he has gained a great point ; 
and one who has acquired the skill of using hard names 
effectively, is certainly possessed of a great power. When 
Lord Palmerston was justifying his action in reference to 
Canton, in his appeal to the English people, he called 
Governor "Yeh" "an ignorant barbarian." This was a 
strong argument in its way, and it was not without its 
effect. The English have a natural hatred for " ignorant 
barbarians," and are not at all particular how they treat 
them. If a man is generally called a fool, he generally 
passes for a fool. Everybody knows how much more 
reverence he has for a man who is known as " General," 
or "Professor," or "Doctor," than for one who is known 
simply as "John," or "Tom," or "Brown," or perhaps 
"Mister." 

A fair illustration of the value of a name was recently 
given in one of the periodicals of the day : A distin- 



278 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

guislied writer tried an experiment with amusing results. 
He prepared an article in his best vein, had it copied by 
bis daughter, and sent the copy to the editor of a leading 
magazine in this country, without his name. After six 
weeks, it was returned, and promptly dispatched to an- 
other leading editor, who also returned it ; and so it went, 
until five of the best American magazines had rejected a 
paper which any one of them would have paid a high 
price for, if the author's name had been added. 



CHOICE OF COMPANY. 

For us to make a proper and wise selection of compan- 
ions, is a matter of no small importance. Those with 
whom we habitually associate have a great influence upon 
our destiny ; they may do much to elevate us, as well as 
much to degrade us. We cannot place ourselves in daily 
contact with bad men, without being contaminated by 
their iniquities ; we cannot be in close communion with 
worthy and upright men, without having our characters 
more or less improved by the influence of our associations. 
Besides, we cannot bear too well in mind, that even though 
we may ourselves be innocent, we run the risk of being 
compromised by the wickedness of those who pass for our 
friends. 

We should not only choose our companions from among 
those whose conduct will not disgrace us, but also from 
among those who will improve us by their manners and en- 
lighten us by their conversation. Everybody has some 
one to whom he looks up as a model worthy of imitation. 
These models should be selected with care and judgment, 
and when well selected, should be as faithfully imitated. 

We need be very careful with whom we live, and with 
whom we converse. We cannot even pass colliers without 
danger of soiling our garments. Montaigne has it thus : 
" Whomsoever I steadfastly look upon, easily leaves some 
impression of his upon me ; whatever I consider, I usurp ; 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 279 

a foolish countenance, a disagreeable look, or a ridiculous 
way of speaking. I swear more by imitation than by 
humor/' ISTone of us have independent characters in the 
sense commonly understood. We exist in the creatures 
about us : as they are, so are we, so we live, so we act. 

It is said that a man is known by the company he 
keeps, but this is only qualifiedly true. Sometimes a man 
may be found in company that is not his choice. It may 
be a matter of accident, his associates may be forced upon 
him. or it may be that he has chosen his companion 
for the reason that the pure Locke gave for making Ash- 
ley his intimate friend, namely, that while he saw in him 
much that was bad, he also saw more in him that was 
good. 

If a man always' chose the company in which he was 
found, and if, moreover, he could mold his companions 
to accord with his own tastes and inclinations, then it 
might be truly said that a man may be known by the com - 
pany he keeps. Yet it often happens that two friends 
who are very intimate, are quite unlike in many respects. 
There is a striking attraction in opposites, as many a mar- 
riage will demonstrate. 



HEALTH. 



"Life is only life when blest with health." And yet 
how few there are whose conduct would indicate that they 
believe in the truth of this doctrine ; how few who seem 
to think that the maintenance of good health is a matter 
worthy of serious concern ! This is the more strange, 
since it is a fact which all must concede, that without ef- 
fort and care, the health which we may now have cannot 
long be retained, and that without health, there can be 
no true enjoyment 

There is no question that the length of our lives, or the 
number of our days, will be very materially affected by 
the place and manner in which we live. We know that 



280 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

some districts are malarious, and that they are almost cer- 
tain death to those who are not acclimated. To some 
kinds of constitutions, and to all people in certain diseases, 
our ordinary articles of food may have an effect as fatal 
as opium or arsenic. He who breathes air that is impure, 
or eats or drinks that which injures and undermines the 
constitution, just as certainly receives into his system a 
poison, as if he had taken something more speedy and 
fatal. The only difference is that one is gradual in its 
work, and the other rapid. 

Now, if it be conceded that health is valuable, we can 
study nothing more profitable to ourselves than the laws 
of health and the means of preserving* it. All will grant 
the soundness of this position, and yet few act upon that 
belief. Large numbers may be said to be killing themselves 
every day, for they are following just that course of action 
which will eventually bring them to an early grave. 

The question may properly be considered here why 
people, especially young people, are so careless of their 
health. The causes are various. The effects of the man- 
ner in which they treat themselves are slow in making 
themselves apparent. The numerous colds which they al- 
low to be accumulated one after another, are at first not 
very inconvenient nor very painful ; it is only in after life 
that their sad effects become visible. Indeed, so much 
time elapses before the cause manifests itself in the effects, 
and the workings of disease are so rapid and insidious, 
that they seldom connect the pains which they suffer with 
the cause which produced them. Again, people who have 
never known what an enfeebled, broken down constitution 
is, have never yet been taught by experience to realize 
how sad a possession a weak and diseased body may turn 
out to be. They do not fully understand how it destroys 
the spirits and depresses the mind. 

What we need, what all need, is strong bodies. With- 
out them, we are as helpless as children. Intellect is 
good, genius is good ; they are all good, but worth nothr 
ing, absolutely nothing, without a sound and strong body 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 281 

to sustain them. The most pitiable sight in nature is a 
sickly and helpless man. It is a wrong philosophy those 
men have who believe that the mind is independent of the 
body, and that one may be healthy while the other is 
diseased. Every one knows that when the body is en- 
feebled, the senses are affected, and that when the senses 
are wrong, the mind, which is dependent on the senses, 
must be wrong also. 

But it does not follow that our ablest-bodied men are 
our most intellectual men. We must not confound a re- 
fined taste with a sound one, or extraordinary perceptive 
faculties with those which are merely healthy. A person 
may have a good organ, without having an acute or 
practised one, as in the case of smell and sight. Able- 
minded men are not sound only, they are also refined. 



APPEAKANCES. 



In our dealings with men, this should be our first and 
fundamental principle of action, that it is not enough for 
us to do, we must also seem ; that is, it is important not 
only that a thing should be as we would have it, but that 
men shall receive and understand it in its true li° - ht. Men 
know nothing of things only as they appear to them. So 
it is no unimportant matter to keep up appearances. To 
be successful, it is not enough that we are honest, that we 
are capable, that we are faithful ; we shall never gain any 
credit for these excellencies, unless we adopt some plan 
by which thej T may become known. Hence, also, much 
of our success depends upon our aptness in anticipating 
the doubts and difficulties of the world, and in being- 
prompt to correct erroneous impressions. We cannot be 
too particular on this point ; we cannot move too early, 
we cannot do too much, or go too far in eradicating false 
impressions. 

We cannot be too particular about the dress in which 
we put things forward. The dress comes to us as a part 



282 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

of the object itself ; it gives the whole tone and character 
to our impressions ; it is the leading element in the ap- 
pearance of the object. Our late President Lincoln r 
speaking of his rather celebrated journey incognito from 
Harrisburg to Washington, said: — "I put on an old over- 
coat that I had with me, and then putting the soft hat 
in my pocket, I walked out of the house at the back 
door, bare-headed, without exciting any special curios- 
ity. Then I put on my soft hat, and joined my friends, 
without being recognized by strangers, for I was not 
the same man." He was not the same man ; he was 
right, and so much for dress. Dry den says : — " Wit 
in rags is turned to ridicule," and the Specta tor affirms that 
" it must be confessed that nothing makes a man appear 
more despicable, or more prejudices his hearers against 
what he is going to offer, than an awkward manner or a 
pitiful dress." Even Socrates, that rough and coarse old 
philosopher, as we are wont to conceive him, was some- 
what particular about his dress and habits. Aristotle tells 
us that " a graceful person [and we presume he means well 
dressed besides] is a more perfect recommendation than 
the best letter that can be written in our favor." And Dr. 
Johnson, that eminent master in all that pertains to the 
knowledge of the human heart and its workings, gives us 
his authority for saying, that " such is the weakness of 
man, that the essence of things is seldom so much regarded 
as external and accidental appendages. A small variation 
of trifling circumstances, a slight change of form by an arti- 
ficial dress, or a casual difference of appearance by a new 
light or situation, will conciliate affection, or excite abhor- 
ence, and determine us to pursue or avoid." " A mean or 
common thought," adds Boileau, " expressed in pompous 
diction, generally pleases more than a new or noble senti- 
ment delivered in a low or vulgar language." We dare 
not then disregard dress, the garb in which we ourseves 
appear, the drapery which we throw around our produc- 
tions. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 283 

Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy. 
But not expressed in fancy : rich, not gaudy, 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man. 
Not must we forget in this connection, that if we 
would have things appear agreeable and attractive, we 
must not fail to consider both the time in which they 
are presented and the manner. The manner in which a 
thing is brought forward is inseparably connected with 
the thing itself. The time does not so materially affect 
the object presented as it does the spectator. We all 
know how differently things appear to men of different 
temperaments and tastes, and at the same time, what dif- 
ferent feelings and inclinations we have under different 
conditions of the body, and'different states of the mind. 

The nightingale, if she should sing by day. 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 
How many things by season seasoned are 
To their right praise, and true perfection. 

We know, too, that things take muoh of their color by re- 
flection, and hence are sensibly affected by the things that 
surround them. We know that the influence of light and 
shadow is an important element, and that varying the dis- 
tance has an important effect in presenting the object. All 
these points no doubt seem small things, but of such 
small things is human life made up, and the prudent man 
is careful not to overlook one of them. There is a proper 
time and a proper grace with which to ask or answer a 
question, a proper time and proper grace to make a gift or 
pay a debt : indeed, there is a right and a wrong time, and 
a right and a wrong "way, for doing any thing. All these 
things imply a thorough acquaintance with the person with 
whom we deal. Lord Bacon hath said that, "if you 
would work any man, you must either know his nature or 
his fashions, and so lead him : or his ends, and so per- 
suade him ; or his weakness and disadvantages, and so 
awe him ; or those that have an interest in him, and so 
govern him." 



284 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 



INDUSTRY. 



" As he that lives longest lives but a little while, every 
man may be certain he has no time to waste." — Rambler. 
We read further that, " To strive with difficulties and to 
conquer them, is the highest human felicity ; the next is 
to strive and deserve to conquer, but he whose life has 
passed without a contest, and who can boast neither suc- 
cess nor merit, can survey himself only as a useless filler 
of existence ; and if he is content with his own character, 
must owe his satisfaction to insensibility." " We complain 
of the shortness of life," says Aristotle, "but we all have 
more time than we know what to do with ;" or, as some 
one else has it, " we act as if there would be no end to it." 

We are disposed to complain because we are compelled 
to work, while on the other hand, if we were condemned 
not to work, and were forced to pass our lives in idleness 
and torpidity, we should receive the most terrible sentence 
which could possibly be imagined. " We would fly for 
recreation," says South, "to the mines and galleys. Such 
is the experience of those who are doomed to pass their 
time in prison. They would rather play with straws and 
spiders, than to be compelled to do nothing." The " Spec- 
tator" tells of a man who was confined for seven years in the 
Bastile. This one amused himself by scattering small pins 
about the floor, and gathering them up one by one, and 
placing them in different figures on the arms of his chair 
for diversion. He is said to have told his friends that 
without this piece of exercise, he thought he would have 
lost his senses. 

"It is a wretched and a dangerous thing to depend upon 
•others," but the only way we can escape that dependence 
is by work. " Undertake coldly, but pursue with ardor," 
are the words of Bias. And we must also undertake 
-early. If we wait, we may not live ; and if we should live 
and become old, we would lose, no doubt, much of the 
vigor both of our body and intellect. The glorious deeds 
of Hannibal and Alexander were all performed before the 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 235 

age of thirty. Philip de Comines says that he who renders 
himself illustrious always does it early. All reason and 
sense teaches men to be active, and yet the remarks of 
the u Idler " are as true to-day as when first written : " He 
that embarks in the voyage of life, will always wish to 
advance rather by impulse of the wind than the strokes 
of the oar : and many founder in the passage, while they 
are waiting for the gale that is to waft them to their wish." 

Let us consider for a moment what industry has done 
without genius, and in spite of it. The world is full of 
instances where turtles have won races while the hare was 
asleep, and where talent has slumbered, while industry 
triumphed. TTe venture to say there never has been an 
instance where a man has risen to eminence by the aid of 
talent without industry ; but there are certainly instances 
enough where men have risen by industry without talent. 
Nothing is truer or more forcible than what is contained 
in the proverb, " The race is not always to the swift, nor 
the battle to the strong." 

If we look around in our own and other countries, we 
shall find that the men who now stand foremost, are not 
those who were bom rich ; nor are they those brilliant and 
promising students who stood first in their class ; nor are 
they those who pour forth eloquent speeches, or astonish 
the world with their penetration and profundity. Yery 
few eminent men ever became great by a single effort ; 
feeble beginnings and heart-rending discouragements have 
marked the course of all of them. Among the modern 
British authors, Disraeli, Carlysle and Bulwer Lytton had 
but a sorry time at starting. Sam Johnson and Oliver 
Goldsmith, now counted as the very brightest stars in 
English literature, had discouragements enough during 
the first years of their authorship to drive an ordinary 
man to despair. 

Yery many of our greatest men developed slowly, and 
no doubt the development which they did have was rather 
that of energy than intellect Newton's place in school 
was at the foot of his class. Sheridan, Adam Clark and 



286 PRACTICAL LIFE. AND 

others were esteemed dunces when boys. Sir Walter 
Scott, while at college at least, was known as " the great 
blockhead." Dame Elizabeth Delap, who taught Gold- 
smith in his younger days, was forced to confess that he 
was one of the dullest boys she had ever met with. His 
chief intelligence consisted in telling ghost stories, steal- 
ing apples, and writing poetry. 

" Let him who would move the world, first move him- 
self," said Socrates. The world is full of instances where 
men have risen high from a very low estate. Cardinal 
Wolsey and Kirk White were sons of butchers. Sir 
Kichard Arkright, and a great many others, were brought 
up in a barber shop. Johnson and Goldsmith were for a 
long time without either friends or funds. Sir William 
Herschell, the great astronomer, started as a poor German 
musician. There were Dr. Lee, the Hebrew scholar, and 
Ferguson, the astronomer. In our own country, we have 
to refer to Franklin, the traveling printer, Daniel Webster, 
the farmer, Henry Clay, the poor mill-boy of the Slashes, 
William L. Marcy, the school-master, Stephen A. Doug- 
lass, the cabinet-maker, Millard Fillmore, the fuller, and 
Andrew Johnson, the tailor. 

Sighing for greatness, vainest of vain things ! Greatness 
never has come, and never will come, by simply wishing 
and sighing. Nothing of all this ever made Webster the 
celebrated orator and statesman. It is true, nature did 
much for him, but he did more for himself by diligence 
and study. Few will ever know how much toil and prep- 
aration it required to secure for him the honors that he 
bore. We will not stop to notice the early and persistent 
efforts of Demosthenes and Cicero. How was it with Cur- 
ran? He started life with such poor prospects for a 
speaker, that he was called " stuttering Jack Curran." But 
every failure only strengthened his determination ; he im- 
proved each time upon his last effort, thus becoming in 
the end the most renowned of Irish orators. 

We have seen thus far that talent will not of itself 
achieve anything. Many who with wonder have seen 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 287 

what men of the most ordinary capacity will accomplish 
by perseverance and industry alone, have been led to be- 
lieve that labor will be able to perform anything; or, 
in other words, as we see it sometimes expressed, what 
one man has done, another may do. Now this doctrine is 
not simply false, it is also pernicious. It arouses expecta- 
tions in the youth in which he must often be disappointed. 
Talent, tact and genius are great powers ; but they are not 
so great as they are considered by some, nor so small as 
they are esteemed by others. We must have something to 
place our building on, or it never will stand. We must 
have seed, or we will have nothing to plant, nothing to 
develop. What careful cultivation and good soil will do 
for the seed, diligence and effort will do for the man, and 
no more. If we have poor seed, no amount of work will 
give us a good harvest ; and especially, if our seed be bar- 
ley, it will be quite useless to endeavor to raise from it 
either corn or wheat. 

Great labor and perseverance will make a good artist of 
almost any one; but no amount of effort will make a 
great artist of some men. Say what we please, our Ho- 
garths, our Websters, our Napoleons, Powers, Ciceros, 
Yirgils, and all such men, are born, "first, and trained, 
educated and brought up, afterwards. But the eminences 
in science and art which an ordinary man cannot reach by 
the requisite amount of effort, are very few indeed, much 
fewer than many suppose. In nearly all the achievements 
of life, we are willing to join in the doctrine that, " what 
man has done, man may do." Nothing was ever said more 
true than this : the greatness of our great men is quite as 
much a bodily affair as a mental one. " Victory," said 
Napoleon, "belongs to the most persevering." 

There are those who expect to sow and reap at the 
same time. But men will learn by experience, if in no other 
way, that they must be patient. They will find that the 
world gives its credits .and pays its dues very deliberately. 
Men do not like to see others rise above them, and hence 
they yield the crown very unwillingly. Those who rise 



288 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

to eminence must learn to "hasten slowly." They must 
be active and work ; they must sow abundantly, cultivate 
diligently, and then simply wait and see. 

Our greatest men were met in the outset with the bit- 
terest scorn. Sir Charles Bell, who first discovered the 
true nature of our nervous system, was for many years 
loaded down with ridicule and pointed at with contempt. 
Byron's first efforts in the poetical line were laughed at. 
Jenner, who has immortalized himself as the one who 
introduced vaccination so common now in all the civilized 
world, was received for a long time not only with coldness, 
but abuse. Eobert Fulton was considered to be at least 
misguided, and Cyrus W. Field actually crazy. Galileo 
fared even worse. Harvey, who was guilty of no greater 
sin than that of having discovered the circulation of the 
blood, had no very pleasant experience by any means. 

Napoleon said of the Austrians, " They fail, because they 
are incapable of calculating the value of minutes." All 
men who have accomplished anything worthy of being 
remembered, have always been careful of their time. 
Cuvier and Buffon were noted as hard workers, and were 
particularly careful of their moments. The custom of 
the latter was to rise faithfully at five, and he had the 
standing order given to Joseph, his servant, to pull him 
out of the bed, if he was unwilling to rise at that time. 
He might well say, " I owe to poor Joseph ten or twelve 
volumes of my works." He copied his " Epochs " eleven 
times, so careful was he both in the manner and the 
matter. Luther's rule was, " no day without a verse," and 
so in the end he finished the bible translation. 

Luck will do something for us, and genius something 
more ; friends may have a place, and wealth its part to 
perform, but patient and persevering industry, directed by 
sound sense, and sustained by an indomitable will, will 
accomplish more than all the others put together. Men who 
wait for lucky thoughts, lucky hits, generally die waiting 
for them. No man ever dreamed his way into great dis- 
coveries. Newton, as a thinker and philosopher, is to 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 289 

be ranked among the first men of his own or any other 
age. And how did he arrive at those great discoveries? 
Let him answer : — " By always thinking unto them." He 
says, still further : — " I keep the subject continually be- 
fore me, and wait till the first dawnings open slowly by 
little and little into a full and clear light" ; and herein he 
gives, we venture to suggest, the experience of every man 
who has ever attained to eminence in any science or art. 

It is a sad mistake that some people make, who suppose 
our great discoveries were matters of chance. Some little 
incident may have started the thought, but industry pur- 
sued and seized it, nursed it, and raised it until it devel- 
oped itself into a great and glorious fact. To accomplish 
anything in the way of discovery, men must have, like 
John Hunter, "minds like a bee-hive." We are yet to 
learn that a lucky thought has ever of itself achieved any- 
thing. It may have induced great results perhaps, but 
hardly more. Galileo saw a lamp swinging in the cathe- 
dral at Pisa, and this led to the discovery of the pendu- 
lum ; but it took yet fifty years to make it a useful and 
tangible fact. 

And how do these accidents lead to important dis- 
coveries? Many before Newton had seen an apple fall, 
as many before Galileo had seen a lamp swinging. Many 
had seen the workings of the little ship-worm, before 
Brunei learned from it how' to build the tunnel of the 
Thames ; so had many seen the spider's w r eb, before Cap- 
tain Brown learned from it how to build a rope suspension 
bridge. Who were these men, and what were they? 
The}- were industrious and observing men — no sluggards, 
that is certain. Johnson has truthfully said : — " Some 
men will learn more in the Hempstead stage, than others 
in the tour of Europe." " It is the mind that sees," says 
Samuel Smiles, " as well as the eye." 

Look where we choose, we may be sure that the men 
who have risen to eminence in any department of life are 
those who have been distinguished as much for the 
amount of labor which they could and did perform, as 



290 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

for anything else. Napoleon Bonaparte was not only the 
greatest general, but the hardest worker, the world has 
ever seen. Bulwer worked his way to eminence, worked 
through failure and ridicule. With him we might name 
such men as Sir Bobert Peel, Lord Brougham, Bulwer 
Lytton, Watt, Arkwright and Beaconsfield ; and besides, 
all our men of eminence in this country, our Websters, 
our Clays, our Stewarts, our Vanderbilts, our Franklins, 
our Morses. Men are known in history by what they 
have accomplished, and the resistance they have over- 
come. Those who have had no trials, and who meet with 
no obstacles, never leave any record that the public cares 
to preserve. 

People who live in rough and rugged countries where na- 
ture has done the least for man, where the keen frost nips 
and the fierce wind blows, are the very ones who always 
have done the most for themselves and for the good of 
the race. 

Look at Great Britain, Denmark, Sweden, and even 
Bussia, as compared with Spain, Italy, Turkey and Greece ; 
our own New England, as compared with the Southern 
States. Is it to be wondered at that the people of the 
sunny countries lose their inheritance and yield the palm 
to the stern men of the North ? Such is always the fate 
of those who refuse to be active and work. 

Help yourselves, and then Grod will help you besides ; 
God helps no others. Here is the work, and there are your 
hands, strong enough and able enough to do that work. 
What else have jom a right to ask for, either from God or 
men? It is so ordered, and wisely ordered, that you 
never get anything worth having, unless yon work for it ; 
or, in other words, " there is no excellence without great 
labor." 

Do not complain about work ; it is a glorious privilege, 
this work. The men of real enjoyment are the working 
men ; they eat because they like to eat ; and sleep because 
they need and deserve to sleep. Working men have the 
consciousness that they are earning something every day. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 201 

It may be money, it may be glory, it may be rest simply. 
but they are still earning something. But what can the 
slothful man be said to earn ? What is given to him is 
not his : the more active will soon take it away. What 
he has is only lent to him for a season, and only a short 
season at that. He owns nothing: he is himself a slave. 

Let the young man. and woman too, if he have great as- 
pirations, bear in mind that it is not talent, nor genius, nor 
wealth even, that rules this world : it is industry. Our real 
sovereigns are not those who wear crowns always : it is 
rather the one who gives crowns and takes them away, 
suc-h men as Napoleon, and Wellington, and Washington, 
and Cromwell, and Warwick, and Bismarck. 

Do not complain, we beseech, you. if you find difficul- 
ties in your course and obstacles to overcome. Do not 
complain, if you find your way rocky and steep, and your 
path narrow and dangerous. Trials strengthen you : they 
develop your manhood. They bring out from you. and. 
in your constitution, unfold that which would otherwise 
perhaps remain hidden forever. What is plainer than this . 
that if you have nothing to do. you can do nothing ? 

Let us tiy : let us keep trying. What matters it if we 
die trying? Is it not better than to die wishing? "It is 
better to wear out than to rust out," said an eminent 
bishop. 



DISAPPOINTMENT. 



The leading element in the production of unhappiness. 
perhaps, one of the most important, if not the prime cause 
of troubled spirits and sorrowful hearts, is disappointment. 
The main source of all our cares and anxieties is our 

- - : we are grieved because we are deprived of that 
which we expected always to enjoy. But our grief is not 
confined to the loss of that which we do enjoy : it ex- 
tends also to the imaginary loss of that which we may en- 
joy, what we confidently hope and expect to enjoy here- 



292 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

after. We counted as our own, and in our imagination, 
we already possessed, what was to come to us upon a con- 
tingenc}^-, which perhaps might never occur. It is clear, 
then, that if we would add to our ease and enjoyment, we 
have only to find some remedy for our disappointments. 
So far, we have traced our misfortunes, our chief un- 
easiness and our anguish, to the errors of our philosophy ; 
and it is in this same false philosophy that our clisapoint- 
ments principally take their rise. We are disappointed, 
because we have been calculating upon what we had no 
right to expect, what nature had never promised us, and 
upon which we had no legitimate claim. We have been all 
the while misconstruing the intentions of our Maker, and 
misapprehending His plans. 

If Ve would be sensible, if we would be happy, let us 
count as lost what we are not sure to retain ; let us count 
for naught that which we are not certain to receive. A 
wise man counts a debt as worthless which he cannot col- 
lect by law, and if by some lucky circumstance he re- 
ceives it, he has so much clear gain. The man who is 
mortified by disappointments, the one who does not rest 
well nights, who has fits of melancholy and is troubled 
with the "blues," is the one who was going to draw a val- 
uable prize through some lottery ticket or "gift enter- 
prise," one who expected to get rich by the rise of goods 
or the advance of stocks, or was certain his aunt or his 
grandfather was going to die by a particular day, and 
leave him sole heir to a great estate ; or who supposed that 
some favoring elf would strew gold dollars in his path, or 
that by some other unimaginable and indescribable freak 
of fortune, he was to be suddenly and mysteriously ad- 
vanced to wealth and glory, power and renown. Miserable 
and misguided creature that he is, how strangely has he 
forgotten that the age of miracles and fairies has long since 
passed away ! Does any one wonder that people with such 
sanguine temperaments as these are generally disappointed? 
We do believe as much as anybody that there is such a 
thing as luck, that do as well as we may, we will after all 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 293 

often fail from the force of circumstances over which we 
have, and can have, no control : we do believe, still fur- 
ther, that some men are for the time being, more fortunate 
than others, that chance does make a vast difference in the 
relative situations of men. but after all. this luck is so un- 
certain and unreliable, its ways are always so mysterious 
and incomprehensible, that we never for one moment are 
willing to place ourselves under its direction, or allow our- 
selves to be brought within the limits of its control. For- 
tune and fate are. for us as things which have no existence. 
We do indeed recognize the fact that some men must 
speculate, must run risks : but the fewer those risks are. and 
the less men are involved in them, the better it will be for 
them. He is very foolish indeed who trusts his all to the 
uncertainties of fate, and who in losing his venture, is 
ruined forever. Speculate, we may. if our tastes are so 
inclined, but we should never risk more than what we can 
well afford to lose. 

If we would avoid disappointments, we must be very 
careful in our estimates and conclusions, not hasty in 
coming to them, judicious in the collection of our evi- 
dence and in the application of our principles, and we 
should, finally, always leave those estimates and conclu- 
sions open to correction. The great trouble of all man- 
kind is, that they are too hasty in forming opinions, too 
reckless in the decisions they sometimes arrive at. Their 
data are insufficient, their premises ill-taken, and their 
conclusions, as a matter of course, badly drawn. Such 
men rely much on first impressions, fall in love at first 
sight, have great confidence in clouds, barometers and 
moonshine: never feel safe in a thunder storm, unless 
protected by lightning rods : often believe in witches, 
death-ticks and other signs : can always tell by the alma- 
nac when it will rain, and when it will not ; can tell where 
oil can be found, and where money is buried, and ten 
thousand other things, little and great, usually hid from 
mortal ken. Is it anything to be wondered at. that such men 
find themselves often mistaken, and hence disappointed ? 



294 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Very strange and unexpected things sometimes happen, 
and a prudent man will always be prepared for them. — 
The following incident in the experience of a German 
peasant, happened some years since : The Emperor Wil- 
liam, of Prussia, with the Duke of Mecklenburg and the 
King of Saxony, had been hunting in Silesia, and the 
aged Kaiser proposed returning to their castle on foot; 
but, soon becoming weary of the walk, he hailed a pass- 
ing wagon and requested the driver to take them home. 
The peasant complied, but could not long restrain his 
curiosity, and soon remarked : — " I suppose it is all right, 
and you look all right ; but will you please tell me who 
you are?'' "I am the Grand Duke of Mecklenburg." 
" Oho-o-o ! " exclaimed the rustic. " And who are you? " 
"I am the King of Saxony." "Oho! ahem!" ejaculated 
the driver. " And you, mister, who are you ? " "I am 
the Emperor." " There, that will do, my friends," grinned 
the peasant ; " and I dare say you would like to know 
who I am. I am the Shah of Persia, and when it comes 
to joking, I can take my part as well as the next man." 
The three sovereigns were convulsed with laughter ; but 
the peasant drew a long face, when he found that he had 
been the only joker. 



PUNCTUALITY. 



Perhaps promptness and honesty ought to be mentioned 
as two very important elements not always to be found 
among the characteristics of those desiring to be consid- 
ered true and correct men. Nothing can be more unmanly 
than the want of punctuality and promptness. Persons 
who do not keep their words and their appointments, are 
either weak or dishonest ; they either lack strength of will, 
and have not the heart to perform their engagements, or 
they are base and dishonest enough to make contracts 
which they do not intend to fulfill. 

Men are apt to think they have a right to do in small 



THE STUDY OF MAX 295 

matters, what everybody would consider disreputable when 
things more weighty are brought into question. Among 
other things, they imagine they have a right by their own 
inconstancy to deprive us of money which they really owe 
us. and that at least by delays and unfaithfulness, they 
may make any draft whatever upon our time and expecta- 
tions. But in communities, such as we find in civilized 
countries, where there is so much of commercial intercourse, 
and so much need of relying on the promises of men, 
nothing can be of more moment than that every one should 
perform faithfully what his engagements require. Xo 
bond should be considered more sacred than the mere 
word of mouth. It will answer for children and savages, 
who have not yet learned the importance of observing 
promises, to sometimes fail in keeping them, but for one 
who has grown to manhood in these times and under these 
circumstances, nothing can be more eminently disgraceful. 

It often happens that by a new phase which circum- 
stances have given the matter, it comes hard for us to per- 
form now, what before we would have done willingly. This 
only teaches us to be so much the more cautious in our 
engagements ; it teaches us to reflect well on even small 
matters, and to consider carefully the new conditions 
which may fetter us. But if we have promised without 
reserve, let us perform without murmuring. In fact, dis- 
honesty can assume no meaner or more despicable phase, 
than the want of faithfulness in fulfilling our engagements. 

And want of punctuality, or unnecessary delay, is sim- 
ply a milder form of the vice we have been speaking of. 
It is not necessarily repudiating our contracts, but it is not 
fulfilling them to the letter, for we do not fulfill them in 
time. It is indeed a sad but truthful commentary on the 
faithlessness of mankind, this observation of Dr. Johnson : 
" It is impossible to see the long scrolls in which every 
contract is concluded, with all their appendages of seals 
and attestation, without wondering at the depravity of 
those beings who must be restrained from violation of 
promise by such formal and public evidences, and pre- 



296 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

eluded from equivocation and subterfuge by such punc- 
tilious minuteness. Among all the satires to which folly 
and wickedness have given occasion, none is equally se- 
vere with a bond or settlement." 



ANTICIPATION. 



Men never find enjoyment, either in quantity or degree, 
equal to what they had anticipated. It is not in human 
nature to be entirely satisfied or really gratified under any 
circumstances. The story of King Pyrrhus illustrates 
man's insatiable ambition and the restlessness of his na- 
ture. As he was preparing to invade Italy, his counselor 
said to him : — " Sir, to what end do you make all this 
preparation?" "To make myself master of Italy," was 
the reply. " And what after that is done ?" "I will pass 
over into Gaul and Spain," con tinned the king. " And 
then what?" said Cyneas. "I will then go to subdue 
Africa, and lastly, when I have brought the whole world 
under my subjection, I will sit down and live at my ease." 
"For (rod's sake," replied Cyneas, "tell me what hinders 
you, if }^ou will, what hinders you from being in that 
very condition now ?" 

One of the safest rules any one can lay down for the 
control of his conduct in life is this, that all calculations 
upon what will "happen in the future, are more or less un- 
reliable. This is true of all the events of nature, but it 
is more particularly observable in the course of human 
conduct. The sole measure by which we judge the fu- 
ture is the past ; we have a natural and irresistible ten- 
dency to believe that what has happened once, will happen 
again, and in precisely the same manner. We carry this 
theory with us into our observations upon human nature ; 
but how often are we deceived ! We have no security for 
assuming that what one man does, another will do under 
like circumstances, nor even to assume that what a man 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 297 

does to-day, he will also do to-morrow under like con- 
ditions. 

Sensitive as man is in his whole character, and alive to 
the influences of all that surrounds him, even the winds 
and the weather may reverse all his tastes and inclina- 
tions. In these facts, we have a simple truth affording a 
very good reason why we should not be taken by sur- 
prise, nor be affected with any serious concern, if we do 
not find men always pursuing the direct and rational 
course which, in our own minds, we had marked out for 
them. " It is a maxim/' says the " Kambler," " that a wise 
man is never surprised, because he is not disappointed, 
and he escapes disappointments, because he never forms 
any expectations." 

We might speak of another deadly poison by which our 
peace is infected and our happiness destroyed, namely, 
vain and idle fears. " 'Tis a great calamity," says Seneca, 
" to have a mind anxious about things to come." It has 
been well said for our consolation, that " when God sends 
trials, he sends strength." We are confident that we suf- 
fer more by ills which we anticipate, and which we mag- 
nify or manufacture, than by the pains which we actually 
experience. 



TIME. 

Time is worth to us more than anything else, and yet it 
is that which we economize least. There is more of our 
lives squandered, more either lost in obscurity and torpor, 
or spent in doing that which affords us neither improve- 
ment nor profit, than is ever devoted to any useful pur- 
pose, or spent in carrying out any distinct plan. 

We are all of us inclined to sleep too much, and work 
too little ; and, besides, the labor which we do perform, is 
too often that which is directed by habit rather than re- 
flection ; it is such as will neither benefit ourselves, nor 



298 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

interest anybody else. It seems strange that the lessons 
which we need most, those of economy and prudence, are 
those which we usually learn last. Our children grow 
up, at least to maturity, without devoting a quarter of 
their waking hours to any useful purpose. What is not 
lost in senseless, useless play, is thrown away in idleness, 
or perhaps worse, in dissipation. Even when they have 
grown up, while the}' have more of what ma}' be called 
work, they still have but little less of what might be 
termed play. 

"Every moment lost," said Napoleon, "gives an oppor- 
tunity for misfortune/ ' People do not sufficiently bear in 
mind that over the future they have no control, while the 
past they hold secure. Every moment of delay is preg- 
nant with difficulties and dangers. People who always 
have time enough, never accomplish anything. They 
always miss the train, or find themselves forestalled by 
those who have either risen earlier, or moved faster. The 
great Nelson said : — " I owe all my success in life to hav- 
ing been always a quarter of an hour before my time." 

Let us see what some have accomplished, while others- 
would think of doing nothing. Bonaparte had his car- 
riage fitted into an office for business, and did a large 
share of his writing while traveling. Dr. Burney learned 
French and Italian while traveling on horseback. Fergu- 
son learned astronomy while tending his flocks. Much 
mental labor has been done by industrious men while 
busy at their work. Dr. Davidson composed several of 
his works while traveling about visiting his patients. 

"Lost wealth may be replaced by industry, lost knowl- 
edge by study, lost health by temperance or medicine, but 
lost time is gone forever." 



ANGER 

Rage swells the lips, with black blood fills the veins, 
And in their lips fire worse than Gorgon's reigns. 

Anger is purely an animal characteristic, and is emi- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 299 

nently degrading to the nature of man. It is one of the 

most useless of all passions, and is perhaps most of all in- 
jurious to its possessor. It comes to us when reason loses 
sway, and prevails to the exclusion of all that is dignified 
and manly. 

Feelings of irritation and anger we cannot extinguish in 
our bosom, but we may keep them within the bounds of 
thorough self-control. A man may have feelings of re- 
sentment and indignation, and still he need not roar like a 
wild beast, nor rave like a madman. TThen a man is crazy 
we say he is mad : and when he is angry, we again say he 
is mad. It is well that we use the same term in both 
cases, for there is but little difference between them. 

"A man of great wrath shall sutler punishment, for if 
thou deliver him. yet thou must do it again." 

An irritable and petulant disposition is akin to the one 
we have just been considering. Buffalo Chief said, at a 
great Indian Council, in looking back upon the past 
wrongs of his people, "it did not become a great nation to 
whine about things that are past and gone." It never be- 
comes anybody to whine about that which, is past all 
remedy. It is disgraceful to grumble, when gTumbling 
can do no s'ood. 



SECRECY. 



TTe shall rind, in our intercourse with the world, that 
every effort is made, and every scheme contrived, by 
which to allay suspicion and divert our attention from the 
subject in issue or the point of attack. In legislative 
bodies, important bills are often reserved for the close of 
the session, that, in the hurry of business, thev may pass 
along with the least possible attention, and as a matter of 
course, with the smallest amount of opposition. It is thus- 
that wily men bury up and obscure their most important 
enterprises, and succeed in this manner where others would 
fail. 



300 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Ever j honest man must condemn such a course as de- 
ceptive and unfair. It is lamentable that mankind are so 
weak, or so cowardly, as to be compelled to resort to such 
artifices. But we must take the world as we find it ; cer- 
tain it is, that with us, as well as with the lower animals, 
this secrecy and slyness is the chief element of safety and 
success. ♦ 

This deception and concealment extends further into 
society than we might, without reflection, suppose. It 
takes a peculiar and milder form sometimes. We are all 
of us guiltj^, occasionally, of using just such tricks and 
cheats as we have now been considering. We all cover 
up our weaknesses and defects, and, in regard to them at 
least, deceive the world in every possible way. We with- 
draw them from the light, and endeavor to conceal them 
from view. Nothing in the world do we dread so much 
as to have the truth known, and to have others see us as 
we see ourselves. ISTone of us would be willing to appear 
before the public as we really are. None of us scruple to 
make nse of false teeth, false hair, false dress, false words, 
and even a little paint sometimes. But this is considered 
right ; only, however, because it is done by everybody. 
What more than this, in principle, does the man do who 
endeavors to pass a bill through the House without our 
examining it? He simply ^wishes to hide its defects, noth- 
ing more. 

Secrecy is one of the leading elements in the success of 
great men. Indeed, a certain share of secrecy is always 
indispensable to success. Why, nature herself is secre- 
tive. Everything valuable in nature is hidden, and we 
must dig for its treasures. 

Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate, 
All but the page prescribed, their present state. 

Secrecy, like almost everything else, may have its bad 
phases, as well as its good ones. Secrecy leads to lying, 
cheating, stealing, and, if it were possible, to even meaner 
things. What passion, or what attribute of the soul, can- 
not be thus perverted ? But the voice of mankind is not 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 301 

far from the truth : He who divulges the ordinary secrets 
of life passes for a fool. 

" The ripeness or unripeness of the occasion," says Fran- 
cis Bacon. " must ever be well weighed : and generally it 
is good to commit the beginnings of all great actions to 
Argos with his hundred eyes, and the ends to Briareus 
with his hundred hands ; first to watch, and then to speed ; 
for the helmet of Pluto, which maketh the politic man go 
invisible, is secrecy in the council, and celerity in the execu- 
tion : for. when things are once come to the execution, 
there is no secrecy comparable to celerity." And this 
finally : Every man should keep his business to himself, 
and particularly his plans, purposes and projects. 



MAKKIAG-E. 



Xo man can enter into any engagement more important 
than that by which a partner is chosen for life. Xo obli- 
gation- which he can take upon himself involves more ser- 
ious consequences than this, or demands more earnest 
consideration. Those who marry determine not only the 
happiness of their life, but often also its direction ; by 
marrying, both parties not only affect their position in so- 
ciety, but, in most cases, to a considerable degree, fix their 
destiny for the future. There are too many who look 
upon marriage as something not human, but divine, a mat- 
ter not governed by the ordinary rules of intelligence and 
sense, but one simply of love and affection. But when 
the bond is once taken, and it is too late to repent, mar- 
riage is found to be purely a civil contract, and the parties 
interested find themselves much in the relation of ordinary 
partners, with elements in their case quite different from 
mere courtship and love. 

The marriage state is not one of unalloyed happiness in 
all cases. People after marriage are as much human as 
they were before : they are liable to all the vicissitudes, 
all the weaknesses, and all the misfortunes of other people. 



302 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

He who marries had better make up his mind in the out- 
set that the change involves many disadvantages and 
losses, and that if he finds in marriage many things that 
he likes, he will also find perhaps as many that he would 
rather avoid, if possible. The law is here as elsewhere ; 
debits and credits, losses and gains, are generally equal. 
Every man should many with his eyes open ; he should 
count well the cost, and know what he shall gain, and 
what he must lose. 

The first and the chief advantage of being married is 
that of having a home. None but the married can be 
said to enjoy its blessings, or even to know what it is 
really worth. If you live with your parents, } 7 ou may in 
one sense be said to have a home, but after all, it is the 
home of dependence. No matter how much of love and at- 
tention you may receive, you still lack that for which 
nothing can compensate, which is freedom. The position 
of a boarder is still worse ; no money will purchase the 
enjoyments and satisfaction which can be afforded by your 
oavii home. With all its toils, all its troubles and anxie- 
ties, there is to every one, save the hermit, an intense 
gratification in the comforts of a home. Who can esti- 
mate its worth ? Who shall take the place and perform 
the duties of a tender and loving wife ? From a mother 
and sister we receive the attention of kindness and sym- 
pathy, but it is from the wife alone that we get the ser- 
vices of one whose very existence is wrapt in ours, and 
who gives us the care and consolations of real love. 

The husband and wife by sympathy divide their troubles, 
and by affection multiply their joys. In affliction, the 
wife will not only soothe us with words of comfort and 
hope, but it will be to us a source of positive relief to 
know that we have some one who will share with us our 
burdens, and who will draw closer to us as our misfor- 
tunes increase. 

Of earthly goods, the best is a good wife, 
A bad, the bitterest curse of human life. 

We have spoken of the comforts of a home ; let us 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 303 

•also advert to the pleasures of the family. A man with- 
out a family, stands out in the world like a lone tree in 
the waste. He is without ties ; there is scarcely a link 
that binds him to any human being. When he dies, 
everybody will forget him, as he now forgets everybody 
else. Bat a man with a family is repeated, or, as by an 
enduring monument, commemorated in all his descen- 
dants. A man without children, is only half a man ; 
without a wife, in many instances, he is no man at all — 
he is merely human nature's sorry representative in the ab- 
stract. A man with a good, amiable and virtuous woman 
to aid and encourage him, is strong ; for each healthy 
and promising child that he has, he is so much the 
stronger still. 

Among the objections that some make to marriage, is 
the additional expense it involves. But that depends, we 
must say, much upon how we make it, and how it is 
looked upon. It is true, the expenses are increased, but 
in a well-regulated family, so is the amount of production 
also. An industrious and faithful wife will add more to 
the returns of the family, than she does to its expenses ; 
and children also, properly trained to activity and econ- 
omy, will soon be able to repay what they cost. 

There are, indeed, serious disadvantages in being mar- 
ried. The married are more circumscribed in their action, 
than those who are single. They cannot,- like the latter, 
go and come when they please. And when they go, 
either from necessity or choice, they will be compelled to 
leave many anxious cares behind them. Those who have 
no home, may of course carry all with them — not so with 
the married. Indeed, a man should know what he intends 
to do, before he takes upon himself these chains, and as- 
sumes these burdens. If he is not going to settle down 
somewhere, and at some time, if his life is to continue to 
be that of an adventurer, he had better not take upon 
him vows which he cannot fulfill. When a woman mar- 
ries a man, she is entitled, except under rare circum- 
stances, to his society. 



304 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

The delights of having a family are many and various, 
but the cares and anxieties which it produces are also 
numerous and painful. Families are liable to sickness, 
and sickness often arouses the most serious apprehensions ; 
and when our worst fears are realized, when those are 
taken away from us, who had become so precious in our 
sight, there is no balm or consolation that will relieve us, 
no hope that will soothe or satisfy us. The unmarried 
can never appreciate such losses. 

How far men should feel it a duty to marry, is certainly 
a question. But there is no question that there are many 
who have neither the duty nor the moral ^ight to marry. 
Those who have sickly and feeble constitutions, certainly 
ought not to seek to perpetuate their misfortunes by 
matrimony. There are many men who, with their morose 
natures, their irritable and violent tempers, or who, with 
their vitiated tastes and depraved character, have certainly 
no right to multiply their race, or make others miserable. 
They are fit only to live with themselves. Again, there 
are many so idle, so helpless, and so miserably calculated 
to live in this world, that they cannot earn their own sub- 
sistence. These of course should not marry. And yet 
they are among the first to do so. Everybody is not 
fitted to be at the head of a family ; everybody cannot 
provide for one. To fill such a place well, requires judg- 
ment and tact, as well as industry. A man may look 
with pride upon such a position manfully taken and 
creditably held. But there are besides all these, many 
sensible and intelligent men, men of means and industri- 
ous habits, having no serious disabilities, who remain sin- 
gle. What excuse shall we offer for them, while there 
are so many noble and excellent women who need homes, 
and who would make desirable wives ? We suspect that 
many of them have no better motives than selfish ones. 

It has been said, perhaps without due consideration, 
that marriages are generally unhappy. This seems to be 
an assertion far too sweeping. We fully agree with the 
writer in the "Kambler," that "marriage is not commonly 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 305 

unhappy, only as life itself is unhappy; and that most of 
those who complain of connubial miseries, have as much 
satisfaction as their natures would have admitted, or their 
conduct procured, in any other condition." 

But the great cause of unhappiness which exists in 
married life, arises from the extraordinary and unnatural 
conceptions which the parties had formed of its nature, 
before the marriage was consummated. They had come 
to consider it as something peculiar and anomalous ; 
something rather of Heaven than of earth ; and now that 
they have the light of experience, they perceive that it 
is simply the uniting of two persons in one common des- 
tiny for life. No wonder they turn back with surprise ; 
no wonder they fall, for the time at least, into all the 
miseries of discontent and despair. 

But, aside from these things, nature has sown the ele- 
ments of dissatisfaction in every enterprise. People, 
though they may not have been disappointed or deceived, 
still are inclined to sigh for novelty and change ; they 
always esteem the past or the future as better than the 
present, and count the things at hand of far less value 
than those which are yet to be obtained. " So the mer- 
chant,"' in the words of Horace, " envies the soldier, and the 
soldier recounts the felicity of the merchant ; the lawyer, 
when his clients harass him, calls out for the quiet of the 
countryman ; and the countryman, when business calls 
him to town, proclaims that there is no happiness but 
amidst opulence and crowds." We cannot eradicate 
querulousness and discontent from our natures, and if we 
find a share of these in married life, let us not be surprised. 

Nevertheless, there are serious mistakes in the basis on 
which we proceed in selecting a husband or wife, and those 
mistakes very often lead to unpleasant difficulties. We 
do not clearly enough fix in our minds what kind of a 
companion we desire. We do not always understand 
what we are really going to get married for, and even 
when we have this object clearly defined in our mind, we 
are still apt to be deluded by the arts of the other party. 



306 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

The great trouble is this, that people before they are mar- 
ried see each other in disguise. They meet only in the 
parlor ; they come there prepared to deceive. Their faces 
are lit up* with most unwonted, yet most captivating smiles ; 
their persons are decorated with most costly ornaments, 
and are improved by the advantages of fashionable dress. 
They never see each other then, as they will more fre- 
quently after the wedding day, with their dress soiled and 
disordered, their spirits depressed, and their countenances 
saddened by trouble or fatigue. 

Again, courtships, though sometimes too long, are 
oftener too short. People marry without a proper ac- 
quaintance. They do not sufficiently inquire whether 
their tastes and tempers are such as would readily har- 
monize, or not. Let people be honest and candid when 
they make a contract which does so much towards decid- 
ing their future forever ; let them be sensible, as well as 
cautious ; let them be reasonable in their expectations, 
and limited in their hopes, and we shall hear far less of 
the miseries and disappointments of married life. In 
connection with the subject of long courtships, which, by 
the way, do not always turn out so happily as this, we 
must refer to the interesting case of Eobert Peel. The 
great Peel.family, it is well known, started life with a very 
humble beginning. AYhen Eobert was twenty years old, 
he engaged in the business of cotton printing. William 
Yates was his partner, and with him he took up his lodg- 
ings as a boarder. Mr. Yates' eldest child was a little 
girl named Ellen. This little child pleased Eobert, and 
as he frequently took her upon his knee, he would say to 
her : " Nelly, bonny dear, wilt thou be my wife ?" And 
Nelly would answer, with childish simplicity. •'Yes." 
" Then 111 wait for thee," said Eobert, u I'll wed thee, and 
none other." And Eobert Peel did wait. Ellen Yates 
grew up and became a lovely and beautiful girl. Ten 
years had passed by. Eobert and Ellen were married, and 
from this union arose the future Prime Minister of England. 

Marriage not only makes a difference in our condition 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 307 

and prospects, but it also works an important change in 
our character. A man at the age of fifty years is a dif- 
ferent man according as he has lived married or single. 
Indeed, who is likely to be more selfish, churlish and 
penurious, than a man or woman who has lived to the age 
of forty or fifty and never been married ? Bacon with all his 
deep penetration, and his knowledge of the world, rather 
mistakes, we think, in his estimate, when he says that 
" unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best serv- 
ants, but not always best subjects ; for they are light to 
run away : almost all fugitives are of this condition. 1 ' 
We are by no means willing to admit that single men are 
best friends, best masters, or best servants. On the other 
hand, we believe that the married men are more reliable 
and more trustworthy* in almost any position 3*011 may 
place them. Their regard for their family, if nothing else, 
would make them more careful of their reputation and 
more faithful to their employer. Moreover, we really 
believe that marriage tends to make men better. Hus- 
bands and fathers, mothers and wives have stronger s}~m- 
pathies than others, and are more apt to be kind and 
liberal, even more honest and true. 

AYe have not the space here to point out in detail just 
what qualities are desirable in a husband or wife, but 
there is room here at least to throw out a few suggestive 
remarks. Very many marry for love, and think love the 
only safe and reliable guide they can find. But it may be 
well to bear in mind, in this connection, a thought ex- 
pressed a long time ago, but true even now, that "love is 
universally allowed to be whimsical." Others have said, 
with quite as much truth, that "love is blind,'' blind to 
defects, blind to dangers ; it delights in fancies, and discards 
reason. Love is desirable, but it will never answer for 
any but silly lads and lasses to take love for their guide 
or master. Sound judgment and good sense will serve us 
far better. Love alone will never provide for a family : 
love alone will never make a home happy. Love alone 
will never answer as a substitute for a good breakfast, nor 
will it make amends for a slovenlv home. 



308 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Many many for beauty. In courtships, beauty may be 
desirable, but after marriage, it is not of so much impor- 
tance, particularly when we consider how superficial and 
unsubstantial a thing beauty is. Beautiful persons may 
make interesting companions for a time, but seldom any- 
thing more. It is a rare thing to find one that uncommon 
beauty does not spoil. A pretty wife almost always 
proves an expensive piece of furniture ; she is very liable 
to be vain and conceited, pettish and domineering, exact- 
ing to others, and unfaithful herself. Let a woman con- 
ceive herself an admired beauty, and she will hardly 
admit of restraint. On the other hand, very homely or 
deformed persons are to be avoided in seeking a compan- 
ion for life ; there needs to be some very great excellencies 
to make up for unpleasant and palpable defects. Other 
things equal, persons of fair looks and easy and pleasing 
manners are to be preferred. Chilo's advice was good: 
A man ought to marry a plain and unaffected woman, and 
not ruin himself by the celebration of his nuptials. 

A man, or woman, has a right to marry for money, but 
it is a very uncertain and hazardous way of acquiring a 
fortune. Those who marry for money, will be apt to over- 
look the absence of qualities more desirable in a life com- 
panion than the possession of any amount of property. 
Wealthy persons are not necessarily disagreeable or 
unamiable, but they are pretty sure to be imperious and 
haughty. If* they have brought us from a low estate, and 
made us prosperous in this world, it would be strange if 
we did not hear of it occasionally. However, if a person 
seems otherwise desirable, the possession of property 
would be no objection. 

Cato married for family, not fortune. The influence of 
powerful relations is often of more importance than the 
possession of wealth. Themistocles said, when his daugh- 
ter had to choose between two citizens, one poor and the 
other rich, he had rather she should have a man without 
money, than the money without a man. 

Among literary persons, the number of unhappy mar- 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 309 

liages seems to be unusually great. It must be admitted 
that literary pursuits do not tend to make the most desira- 
ble husbands or wives. The case of Byron you must all 
know. Dickens separated from his wife after they had 
been married twenty years. Bulwer had his family diffi- 
culties. Edmund Burke was an exception. He could 
say as few of his class could : " Every care vanishes 
when I enter my own home." Among the unfortunate 
literary ladies, in their marriage relations, one might name 
Mrs. Sigourney, Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Hemans, and Mrs. 
Jameson. Many philosophers and eminent men were sen- 
sible enough not to get married ; among these we might 
name Leibnitz, Locke, Newton, Gibbon, Goldsmith, Cow- 
per, Hobbes, Heine, Pope, Michael Angelo, Boyle, and 
our own Irving. 

But there are many instances on record where the wives 
have aided and encouraged their husbands in their studies. 
One of these was Ann Denham. When Elaxman, the 
great artist of Britain,' had married Ann Denham, that 
noble-hearted and high-souled woman, an old bachelor, 
Sir Joshua Eeynolcls, addressed him thus : "So, Flax- 
man, I am told you are married ; if so, I tell you, you are 
ruined for an artist," And Flaxman went home and told 
his wife that he was ruined for an artist, " How, John, 
how has this happened?" said Ann. And then he told 
her what Sir Joshua had said, and sighed as he spoke of 
the desire which he still had to visit Rome and become a 
great artist. " And so you shall visit Rome, and become 
a great artist," replied Ann. "Let us work and econo- 
mize ; I will help, I will go with you ; it shall never be 
said that Ann Denham ruined John Flaxman for an artist." 
And they did work and economize, and they did go to 
Rome, and John Flaxman became a great artist, and pos- 
sessed a great wife besides. 

The most common and most serious mistake made by 
people who get married, is to be found in the difference 
of their rank, age, acquirements, or tastes. When this 
difference is very pronounced, or very noticeable, the 



310 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

chances of an unhappy life are considerable. In fact, 
nothing but great forbearance and self-denial, on the part 
of one or both, will enable the pair to maintain even the 
semblance of harmony. It is generally a blunder for 
which no excuse can be given. An old person may 
sometimes marry another much younger, in order to se- 
cure a nurse, but that is a sort of contract that can hardly 
be called marriage. Among the many unfortunate cases 
of marriage between persons differing in age and rank, we 
will notice only that of Lord Exeter. He had been mar- 
ried, but for some cause, a divorce had been obtained, and 
he took the position of a single man. He was devoted to 
painting as an art, and it was his delight to wander about 
the country in plain dress, seeking new subjects and prac- 
tising with. the brush. He was a great favorite with the 
peasantry, and at one poor cottage, he was especially wel- 
come. It so happened once that he fell ill, and he was 
taken to this cottage, and there tenderly cared for. Among 
those most devoted in attentions, was the daughter, fif- 
teen years of age. Naturally enough, affection gradually 
developed, and the lord, whose rank was unknown to the 
lass, determined to make her his wife. As she was un- 
educated, she was sent to school until she became quite 
accomplished. Finally, notwithstanding the great dis- 
parity in their ages, the}" were married : — and then the 
secret of the groom's rank was made known. But the 
future for her was not one of happiness. The transition 
was too great and too sudden. She was not fitted for the 
station in life where she was now found. The great 
inequality in their ages, and the differences in their tastes, 
added much to. her sorrows and heart-aches. She had 
several children, but she soon faded away — and departed 
forever. 

LIFE AND DEATH. 

It is surprising how much more anxious men are about 
the number of their days, than about the extent of their 
achievements. Is it, then, a matter of such grave impor- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 311 

tance how long we may eat and drink and sleep, and draw 
the breath of life ? It seems to us that a man should 
measure the length of his life by what he has 'accom- 
plished, or. if you prefer, by what he has enj'03-ed, rather 
than by the number of years it may happen to be sinee 
the day he was bom. It is a very false system of nota- 
tion, we think, upon which we base our computation in 
matters of this kind. Our philosophy is wrong. Some 
men really live as long, that is. feel and perform as much, 
in one year as others would in ten. But most people, we 
verily believe, would be content to live, if it were with no 
more sensibility than the polyp, and no more activity than 
an oyster. 

" I have lived longer by this one day than I ought to 
have done." cried Sabienus. Solon in the same spirit said 
to Croesus: "Men, however fortune may seem to smile 
upon them, can never be said to be happy till they had been 
seen to pass over the last day of their lives ; by reason of 
the uncertainty and mutability of human things, which in 
an instant are subject to be totally changed into a quite 
contrary condition." More men might with reason com- 
plain that they are compelled to live too long, than that 
they are not suffered to live long enough. ^Napoleon 
Bonaparte remarked long before his death : "I am con- 
demned to live." Ciesar s was a noble and worthy answer, 
which he made when some one begged him to have a guard : 
"It is better to die once, than to live always in fear of 
death." Among those who died in good time with their 
laurels on, we might name the noted " Stonewall " Jack- 
son, our own Kearney, the lamented Lincoln and Garfield. 
Among those who lived too long, were Xapoleon the 
Great. Antony, Hannibal, Pompey, the Persian Darius, 
and Garibaldi. 

How many there are to whom we might apply the inter- 
rogatory of Caesar, which he put to an old and worn out 
guard who came to ask leave to kill himself. Ca?sar, 
observing his withered body and decrepit motion, said: 
"Dost thou fancy that thou art yet alive ?" There is perhaps 



312 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

some truth in the saying of Seneca, that " the wise man 
lives as long as he ought, not so long as he can." But 
this is better : " What," said the Greek, " can those suf- 
fer who do not fear to die?" " Health to thee, Diogenes," 
said the poor sick man almost dead with the drops}'. " No 
health to thee," replied the Cynic, " who consentest to live 
in that condition." The thought hinted at here we cannot 
endorse. While we believe it beneath a great or wise 
man to be troubled about death, we believe also that no 
one should presume to take away that life which he can- 
not give. Generally speaking, those who cannot endure 
the ills of this world, are cowards. Eegulus we must 
ever admire more than Cato. " No misfortune can make 
true virtue turn her back." How we may die, is a 
question as important as how we may live. It is quite 
as possible for us to disgrace ourselves in dying, as in. 
any other way. If die we must, it is nobler to die like 
a man, than to be dragged out of existence like a dog. It 
was Epaminondas who, when he was asked who should 
be held in greater esteem, himself, Chabrias, or Iphicrates, 
answered : " You must first see us die, before that question 
can be answered." Or, as Montaigne has it: "In the 
judgment I make of another man's life, I always observe 
how he carried himself at its close ; and the principal con- 
cern I have for my own is, that I may die handsomely, 
that is, patiently and without noise." To say nothing of 
Cicero and Demosthenes, can we think of Johnson, a man 
of such intellect and so justly celebrated in the world of 
letters, and yet remember his ridiculous fear of death, 
without looking on him with pity mingled with contempt ? 
How many weaker and less celebrated men have met their 
fate like heroes ? 

Of all the idle dreads to which life is heir, none seem 
more unreasonable than the fear of death. It cannot be 
the fear of dying, for, in the course of our lives, we suffer 
many things worse than death. It is rather the fear of 
being dead that tortures us, and perhaps the dread of 
being forgotten bv others. But whv should this trouble 



*C3 ^-"o 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 313 

us? After the fatigues of the day, we resign ourselves to 
the embrace of sleep with feelings of real satisfaction ; 
but death is only an eternal sleep, an everlasting forgetful- 
ness. The only rational part of our fear in this respect, 
is that we must lose ourselves forever, and that we must 
surrender our friends, our possessions, our hopes, our am- 
bitions. But may we of right complain? Is it not our 
duty to give up, cheerfully and without a murmur, that 
which is only loaned to us, and to which we have no title 
of our own? So far from being disposed to complain, 
when we meet with that fate which we know must sooner 
or later come to us, in common with all the other mortals, 
there should not even be any feeling of disappointment. 

Shall we not pay a debt we owe, one which ail contract, 
and all must pay ? Others perhaps may live longer than 
we ; but are there not as many who do not live so long? 
Death is to be feared only by those who are at enmity 
with Grod, and who dread the settlement of their accounts, 
expecting to receive at last what they feel they have long 
deserved. To the righteous, death is never terrible. 

" Why," asks a philosojDher "why dost thou fear the 
last day ? It contributes no more to thy dissolution than 
every one of the rest. The last step is not the cause of 
lassitude : it does but confess it. Every day travels to- 
wards death : the last only arrives at it." The old to whom 
alone nature seems to order death, consider it no ill. It is 
a positive relief to those who come to the end of a long 
and active life, and there cast off the burden of a useless 
frame. ^Vho would be immortal ? "Worse would be their 
condition than that of the one who, as we read, begged to 
have all he touched turned into gold, and had his request 
granted. Most, like Chiron, would refuse the gift. Peo- 
ple would wish to die as a change, if nothing more. 

To' prove that there is nothing in death itself so terrible 
as we make it, and that the philosophy upon which we 
live must be held responsible for our dread of it, we have 
only to refer to the . people of ancient and modern times, 
the Chinese, the Hindoos, the Spartans, all of whom con- 



314 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

sidered death a matter of no great account, and in many 
instances, even something really desirable. 

We are taught to believe that death is the most dread- 
ful thing that can happen to us, and yet a life of disgrace 
and infamy, a life of stinging poverty and pinching want, 
or one of utter helplesness and misery, is worse than death 
at any cost. " It is as natural to die as to be born," some 
one says. Nothing happens in'nature but what is natural, 
regular, reasonable, and right. It is as natural to be sick 
as to be well, and to die as to live. Let us take up with 
our fate, then, cheerfully and like men. 

"I have often thought of death,'* says Montaigne, "and 
I find it to be the least of all evils. All that which is 
past is as a dream, and he that hopes or depends upon 
time coming, dreams waking. So much of our life as we 
have discovered is already dead ; and all those hours 
which we share, even from the breasts of our mother until 
we return to our grandmother, the earth, are part of our 
dying days, whereof even this is one, and those that suc- 
ceed are of the same nature, for we die daily ; and as others 
have given place to us, so we must in the end give way 
to others." 

Death is considered a grim monster ; how shall we di- 
vest him of his terrors ? The remedy is an easy one, and 
open to all who may choose to apply it. Bring death 
home to you; do not refuse to think of him; when he 
comes towards you, meet him boldly. Consider him at- 
tentively; reflect seriously. He is not so fierce as you 
thought him — not^half so terrible. When he takes }'our 
friends from you, your family, your wife, your husband, 
perhaps you have lost. But when it is yourself, there is 
no loss in it ; the gain is clear, the advantage is all upon 
your side. Let the study of philosophy, and your experi- 
ence in life, be what Cicero considers it, nothing but " a 
preparing of one's self to die." "Let us disarm death of 
his strangeness," are the words of Montaigne; "let us 
converse and be familiar with him, and let nothing be in 
our thoughts so frequent as death." Death is too certain,. 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 315 

you are too often reminded of it by the fate of others 
around yon, and the dangers you have already escaped. 
ever to be taken by surprise when he calls for you. 
Watch and be ready. To quote the French essayist again : 
11 We should ever be booted and spurred and ready to go, 
and, above all things, take care at that time to have no 
business with any but one's self." 

Why cut"st thou out such niighty work, vain nian, 
Whose life's short date's comprised in one poor span ? 

Montaigne says he would have a man to be doing, and 
so much as in him lies, to extend and spin out the offices 
of life: " and then let death take him planting cabbages, 
but without any careful thought of him, and much less of 
his garden's not being finished." And yet, "people go 
and come, and dance and gad about, and not a word of 
death. All this is very fine while it lasts, but when death 
comes, either to themselves or their wives, or their chil- 
dren, or their friends, surprising them at unawares, then 
what torments, what outcries, what madness and despair 
overwhelm them.'' 

People dread dying as if it were the most painful thing 
in the world But many of those who have died have 
had, we are sure, no such experience. Persons who are 
exhausted by disease, to say nothing of those who die 
from old age, die naturally, without effort and without 
pain. TTe are too apt to confound sickness with dying it- 
self. Sickness, we admit, is often the source of great 
pain, but equally insufferable whether we recover or die. 
The most fatal diseases are by no means the most painful 
ones. Men often suffer more from the rheumatism vak\ 
the dropsy, than those do who die from other diseases. 
Dying is not dreadful in itself : it is no fearful thing in it- 
self : it is no fearful thing to those who have a clear con- 
science and a stout heart. Drawing the last breath is as 
easy, and often as pleasant, as losing one's self in the arms 
of sleep. People are very much deceived in the quantity 
and kind of suffering which those who die apparently suf- 
fer. Those writhings and twistings, so painful to behold 



316 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

in those who die, are generally involuntary movements, 
and are not evidences of pain. The person is at least as 
unconscious as he is in his sleep. 

Epictetus would never have us say "I have lost that," 
but rather "I have restored it; my son is dead, I have 
restored him ; my wife is dead, I have restored her," — so 
of goods and all the rest. " Kemember," he adds, " that 
you are here as an actor, and that }~ou play your part in a 
comedy, such as it pleases your Master to give it to you. 
If he gives it to you short, play it short ; if he gives it to 
you long, play it long ; be upon the stage so much time as 
it pleases him ; appear there rich or poor, as he orders it. 
It is your duty to play well the part which is given j'ou ; 
but to choose, that is another thing entirely." As God 
wills, so be it, never murmur. TVe must take things as 
we find them, which are not always, by any means, as we 
would order them. 



ARTIFICES. 



In our intercourse with men, we find they have certain 
indirect modes of producing important results. Men often 
find it easier to flank a strong work, than to attack it in 
front. This flanking process is in constant operation in 
the ordinary affairs of life. Thus, when a man has for 
any length of time been in the habit of contracting debts 
which he does not intend to pay, he never says when you 
come to ask him for " that little bill," that he has sus- 
pended payment, or that he never meant to pay you. No, 
lie rather puts on an honest face, a face such as none others 
-can put on, and evincing great mortification, he tells you 
how he has just paid out the last cent ; but he can assure 
you that 3 T ou shall have it to-morrow. If you call when 
to-morrow arrives, he will tell you when you may call 
again. Now, this is indeed a good way for both parties 
concerned. He gets rid of paying the debt, and so far as 
you are concerned, the burden is let down so gradually 



TPIE STUDY OF MAN. 317 

that 3'ou scarcely feel that you have lost anything in the 
operation. We have known perfectly responsible, yet 
adroit men, to evade their creditors in this way until the 
whole debt is outlawed. 

The greatest calamity in the world, when let down in 
this easy way, is never felt to be such. All revolutions of 
great moment, those of nature as well as those of man, are 
earned forward in this gradual and imperceptible way. 
The wily usurper advances by degrees, and the people 
never suspect what is going to be done, until the key is 
turned and the door is fast. The history of Napoleon III, 
and Cromwell in earlier days, will furnish us with illustra- 
tions of this truth. Time wears off the asperities of all 
things :• not the rocks alone, but love, hate, anger, wonder, 
resentment, all give evidence of Time's effacing fingers. 
It is for this reason that the lawyer puts off the case of the 
criminal from term to term, until the public has softened 
its wrath, the witness has forgotten his evidence, and the 
jDrosecutor has lost his zeal or resentment. In the South, 
this kind of strategy is extensively practised. Somebody 
has said that delays are dangerous ; but that depends upon 
the side which you represent. For one side at least, de- 
lays are often of great service. 

Nothing is more certain than that this slow and sure 
process is the only possible way of effecting certain and 
great results. The men who accomplish most in this 
world, are those who begin early, move steadily, and never 

rest 

And here we may notice another class of cunning de- 
vices which are practised by reserved and shrewd men. 
To gain the information which in heart they yearn for, 
they never ply you with direct and pointed questions. 
They talk unconcernedly on certain matters ; they lead 
you on step by step, without arousing the slightest suspi- 
cion, and in the end, you have volunteered all the informa- 
tion they - could ask for. It is the uniform practice of 
these men never to suffer you to observe that they feel 



318 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

the least concern on the subject in question. If they write 
to you, they will mention the most important point by 
way of postscript, away down in some obscure corner, as 
if dropped there by mere accident. If they have a favor 
to ask, however important it may be, it is always brought 
forward in this same incidental manner. Your attention 
is diverted to other points, you answer yes, and it all 
passes along, at the time, as if it were the most trivial 
thing in the world. 

" It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to 
speak somewhat they desire to say, and how far they will 
fetch, and how many other matters thej^ will beat over to 
come near it ; it is a thing of great patience, hut yet of much 
use." — Bacon. 

Some men are influenced not by a direct approach of 
the party concerned, but through the medium of a third 
person. We are often compelled to resort to this artifice. 
We are all more or less parasitical ; we all have somebody 
in whom we have unlimited confidence, some one whose 
word passes with us for the true gospel ; some one to whom 
we are wont to attach ourselves, and with whom we have 
become more or less identified. These are the persons 
through whom we can always be reached. We would 
grant to them what we would be sure to refuse to others. 
At our State capital such men are known as "the lobby. " 

Let Ajax go to him. — 

Dear Lord, go you and greet him in his tent : 

Tis said he holds you well ; and will be led, 

At your request, a little from himself. — Troil. and Cress. 

Others again want money. They count their services y 
of whatever nature these may be, as being worth so much, 
and you must advance that amount, or they cannot safely 
be counted upon. This is a class so well known that we 
need not dwell on them further. 

There is a class still beyond all these, those who yield 
to importunings. There are few men who can stand re- 
peated assaults of this kind, without in the end giving 
way ; there are few men who do not yield to entreaties 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 319 

and appeals. It is wonderful what such things accom- 
plish. It is firmness and persistence that always conquers. 
Even the child learns the power of importunity. Bad 
debts are collected in this way, and hard hearts are won 
in the same manner. More than one woman has married 
a man to get rid of him : more than one beggar has been 
helped, merely to get his face out of sight, 

And then again, there are plenty of men who want to 
be asked, men who delight to be importuned and coaxed, 
and who never will do anything for you unless they are 
importuned and coaxed. There are in every community 
plenty of those who live upon the broad principle that 
what is not worth asking for is not worth having ; persons 
who expect to be invited to church, or to send to school, 
or buy goods, and who even seem to think it out of char- 
acter to pay an honest debt, without being asked for it. 
Why, we verily believe that there are some men who 
would see a man drown, if he did not call to them and 
say : ' ; Please help me out !" 

But there are other advantages in this soliciting process. 
The very asking often puts a man in mind of what he 
otherwise would not have thought ; or if he had, would fail 
to attach to it the importance that was due. He may feel 
perfectly willing to do you the favor, but possibly he 
never thought it was a matter of any moment to you. He 
may be perfectly willing to buy when he visits your store, 
if you will put him in mind of something he needs. Hence 
arises the importance and value of " drummers," those who 
go about telling us what we need and what we ought to 
procure. 



POPULARITY. 



A man to be popular, that is, to have many friends and 
few enemies, must be an intermediate between a simple- 
ton and a sage. If he knows too much, he will be over- 
whelmed by envy : but if he knows too little, he will be 



320 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

despised for his ignorance. It is hardly necessary to be 
reminded that the popular man is never remarkable for 
either his learning or talents ; or, reversed, the man of 
learning and talents is never very popular. He may be 
venerated or admired, but he will rarely be loved. Thus 
Clay and Webster were both talented and powerful men, 
but in no sense popular ones ; their very excellencies 
brought them a multitude of enemies, as well as a host of 
friends. Bacon, while he lived, had little honor as a 
writer in England, and Locke was for a long time not 
appreciated. " The darlings of the world," said Johnson, 
" will generally be found to be such as excite neither 
jealousy or fear, and are not considered as candidates for 
an eminent degree of reputation." 

The popular man says little and does little ; how is it 
possible that he should have enemies ? He never meddles 
with other people's business, and never takes affront if 
other people meddle with his. He is popular from his 
entire want of individuality. He is in the current, with 
the crowd in the current, and is thus carried along with- 
out a struggle. He never stands out alone ; he is never 
known by himself. He has neither feelings nor opinions 
of his own — everything is in common with the masses. 
His chief effort is to find out what other people think, 
that he may be able to subscribe to their opinions. . He 
never speaks highly of himself, but always extols others. 
He humbles himself, that others may have the pleasure of 
towering above him. He pleases eveiybody, and every- 
body pleases him ; why should not such a man be popular ? 
He is scrupulous to the utmost in observing a proper regard 
for others. He listens with the greatest attention, and is 
delighted with every remark that he hears. He knows 
that nothing pleases us so much as to feel that we have 
uttered a smart or witty saying. He is not addicted to 
giving advice, that common but repulsive vice which has 
its origin in our own conceived superiority over others. 
He is quick to see the wants of others, and as ready to 
relieve them. He reads countenances and minds with the 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 821 

greatest aptitude and precision; the least word, the leasl 
motion, lias its significance and meaning for him. No one 
knows the springs of the human heart better than he; no 
one puts that knowledge into more active and constant 
practice. Like Martin VanBuren, if he sees a man once, 
he always remembers him, and if he has ever known him, 
he never passes him by unnoticed. He feels, or affects to 
feel, an interest in the success and prosperity of every one, 
a liveh* concern in the welfare and happiness of every 
man and his family. Everything he does is well consid- 
ered and carefully measured. He never allows himself 
to be compromised by false impressions ; he readily 
anticipates the effect of everything he does. He antici- 
pates, too, the doubts and fears of others, and quickly dis- 
perses them. He is not afraid to talk, when talk is neces- 
sary. He is the last man to leave a thing unexplained, 
when explanation will aid him. Behold the picture of 
the popular man ! 



RETICENCE AND RESERVE. 

For a man who desires to be esteemed or venerated, 
nothing is more important or more necessary than reserve. 
Distance lends enchantment to the view ; this is a well 
known law of nature, and in its application is by no means 
confined to vision. Distance obscures all defects ; all the 
asperities are smoothed down, and the play of our imagi- 
nations multiplies the beauties of the object. This law is 
as true and applicable in all the affairs of human nature 
as it is in the landscape. 

Everybody knows that the man abroad is a far greater 
man than the same one at home, and it is for this plain 
reason : Every character is a compound, a mixture of at 
least two kinds of ingredients, the good and the bad, and 
in proportions generally pretty nearty equal. At, home a 
man is seen as he acts in the absence of conditions and 
restraint. Here, those petty and disagreeable traits of 



322 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

which, every man has his full share, are allowed to exhibit 
themselves freely, and the} 7 necessarily constitute a strong 
element in the estimate which we form of his character. 
Abroad he is like the maid who, having adorned herself 
with her sweetest smiles and handsomest dress, sits down 
in the parlor to wait for compaii}-. lie appears at his very 
best. Like the ladies of the East, who cover all the face 
but the eyes, or like the Grand Lama of Thibet, who will 
show none of his face, he keeps himself, as far as he is 
able, concealed from view. The more of darkness he can 
gather about him, the more is left to the imagination of 
his observers, just as animals appear largest when envel- 
oped in a fog. 

This reserved and popular man never says much, but 
the air he assumes indicates that he knows as much as 
usually falls to the lot of mortals. Very little talk can 
one get from him, but what he does condescend to utter, 
comes forth with all the assurance of proj^hec} 7 , and with 
all the gravity of wisdom herself. The very air of mys- 
tery which he puts on, would of itself draw people around 
him — they cannot rest till they penetrate the secrets of his 
nature. What impulse is stronger than that of curiosity ? 
To satisfy this, many a man would be willing to lose his 
hat, or his breakfast. In thus keeping himself from the 
light, he is like the showman, who will let a man see the 
nose of the bear, in order that he may give a dime to see 
the whole animal. Men retreat gently, that the masses 
may pursue them ; it is the old play of the two lovers. 
We never chase animals that will not run ; we never want 
what it costs us no trouble to get. It is on this principle 
that shrewd men affect indifference, or repugnance, only, 
like Caesar, to be urged the more. 

We have hinted before, and we repeat again, we want 
always what we cannot get, and despise that which we can 
have without getting. How man}' a suitor has been ruined 
by being too forward, too impatient, and has failed to 
apply the golden rule of being reserved and distant, but 
yet not too reserved or too distant. If you cannot affect 



THE STUDY OF MAX 323 

indifference, at least preserve your independence Ask, 
if you choose, but ask like a man : and if you are refused, 
do not go to crying, or get on your knees, or bang your- 
self. The beggar disgusts everybody, even though lie 
may get his alms in the end. 

Familiarity, as all have heard, breeds contempt Per- 
haps this is expressed too broadly : but familiarity does at 
least breed disrespect and a lack of regard. People refuse 
to believe this, but nothing was ever said that was truer. 
Every step taken by the master to put himself on a level 
with his subject, is so much at the expense of his au- 
thority. It is nor in human nature to see in the man who 
is our playmate to-day. our real master to-morrow — to this 
law there is no exception. Kings get a large share of 
their power over their subjects from their distance, their 
reserved demeanor, and much from their splendid dress 
and equipage. Even Xapoleon Bonaparte, born as he was 
from among the people, and opposed to everything which 
partook of pomp and show, was still compelled to main- 
tain a reserved and formal manner. He found it as im- 
portant to dazzle and divert the Parisians by the splendor 
of his throne, as bv the s:lorv of his achievements. 



TROUBLES. 



He that is too inquisitive, too officious, too fond of 
intermeddling, is sure to have so much to do with the 
affairs of his neighbors that his own will go to ruin. It 
is time enough to act as mediator when Ave are called upon. 
Even then, it must be borne in mind that there are at least 
two sides to all questions, and that while we satisfy one, 
we must of necessity give offense to the other. Every- 
thing is opposed to a meddlesome nature, good sense, good 
taste, self-interest and prudence. Every man will find on 
clue reflection that he has enough to do in looking after 
his own concerns, without entering into the misfortunes of 
others unnecessarily. 



324 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

It is always important to avoid difficulties and disputes. 
Seneca has well said : " Tis better not to begin than to 
desist.'' What a man needs above all things to have con- 
tinually with him, is forethought. Men ought to become 
wiser by experience, and if they do, they can easily 
decide what will bring them into trouble, and so avoit it. 
A very large share of our disputes and ills we could 
just as well avoid by care and consideration. It is a good 
thing for a man to fight well in his own defense, but it is 
still better to have no defense to be made. A man, for 
example, who has an irritable temper himself should avoid 
occasions where such a temper would be liable to be 
brought in action. "I shun melancholic and sour men,"" 
says Montaigne, " as I would the plague/' 

He who thinks he can pass through this world always- 
getting what is his due, and preserving Avhat he considers 
his "rights," is very weak indeed. Many of these he 
never will get ; and many that he gets will cost him much 
more than they are worth. Cicero is our authority for 
saying that: u It is not only generous, but often advan- 
tageous, to yield a little sometimes from what one is enti- 
tled to." Very many offenses are either grave or small r 
according to the amount of importance which we attach- 
to them. How many farms have been lost and the own- 
ers ruined in contending for only a few square feet of 
ground ! It is well said that he who goes to law for dam- 
ages is pretty sure to get them. A few unimportant taxes 
and a little tea thrown overboard brought on the seven 
years war of the Eevolution — even after the British had 
removed substantially all the objectionable features of which 
the Americans complained. The engraving of a seal 
brought on the bloody wars of Marius and Sylla, and the 
conflicts that sprung from them. It is surprising how 
fond men are of fighting for principle. It is all well 
enough when it does not prove so exjDensive. AVheu 
wrong acts are not likely to be taken as precedents for the 
repetition of like ones, we had better pass them by unno- 
ticed. Eevenge may be sweet, but it neither aids, elevates,. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 325 

nor honors the man. Revenge belongs to cowards and 
weak men ; it is far beneath the dignity of one who is 
great and strong. 

The troubles we have thus far been considering are more 
or less real. But there are troubles of another character 
which are mostly imaginary, namely, those which we an- 
ticipate or apprehend. Caesar said : "It is the common 
vice of nature that in things unseen, hidden and unknown, 
we most confide, and by such things we are generally 
most easily frightened." But a philosopher will wait and 
see ; he will cast these doubtful things as far out of his 
thoughts as possible, and when they come, he will take 
them as he finds them. 

" If we could look into the secret anguish and affliction 
of every man's heart," says the Monitor, "we should often 
find that more of it arises from little imaginary distresses , 
such as checks, frowns, contradictions, expressions of con - 
tempt, than from the more real pains and calamities of 
life." 

"Every one is well or ill at ease according as he finds 
himself ; not he whom the world believes, but he who be- 
lieves himself to be so, is content ; and therein alone belief 
gives itself being and reality," says Montaigne. When 
we have learned how to banish trouble, we are certainly 
secure of the possession of happiness. And why should 
we trouble ourselves? If the storm has swejot over us 
and left us a wreck, let us never worry about that ; it is 
better for us to think about providing means by which we 
may escape with our lives. But if the storm has not yet 
come, and we merely fear it may come, then our trouble 
is surely more unreasonable still. This storm which we 
so much dread now may never reach us ; it may go to the 
north or south of us ; it may, as the darkest clouds often 
do, disappear on the very horizon, and be replaced by the 
glorious light of the noonday sun. 



326 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 



SUCCESS. 

To be successful in this world, to have accomplished 
something and to have lived to some purpose, implies not 
only ability and exertion, but ability and exertion ap- 
plied to some fixed plan, turned in the right direction 
and guided by prudent counsel. 

If we would act well our parts, if we would obtain that 
esteem and regard which all desire, we must never lose 
sight of the idea that we not only live among our fellow 
men, but that we labor for them, and that the success or 
the failure of our performance depends entirely upon the 
favor with which it is received by them. We cannot dic- 
tate our own terms ; we cannot compel men to follow us, 
and it is simply vain to insist upon having either their 
praise or devotion. It is a matter of the slightest impor- 
tance what we are, or what we can do ; it is a thing of no 
moment at all what we alone know that we have done or 
can accomplish. "Hidden virtue is much the same as 
none at all" A light under a bushel is for the world as 
no light at all. We must repeat again, that we are deal- 
ing with men, and our fate and our success depend solely 
upon the suffrage which men give us. To please men, 
then, to be able to serve them satisfactorily, it is evident 
that we must first of all know them. We must know 
their wants and wishes, their habits and their inclinations ; 
we must know also our own capacity and the limits of our 
own endurance. 

The road which leads to success, and even to eminence, 
is not through any particular calling or profession. The 
world is as much in need of merchants, mechanics and 
farmers, as it is of clergymen, lawyers and doctors, and 
whoever by his industry or his genius succeeds in advanc- 
ing the interests of any of these pursuits, is certain to have 
the renown^to which he is entitled. It is a very mistaken 
idea which inexperienced persons have, that celebrity and 
success belong exclusively to the professions, and that 
everything else, if not really ignominious, is to say the 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 327 

least, quite beneath the aspirations of promising men. 
The consequence of this is, that many study law or medi- 
cine, who had better be following the plane or the plow. 
There is no study in life more important for the young 
man, there is none perhaps which involves more inquiry 
and reflection, than to decide upon the course of life for 
which, by his make and constitution, he was intended by 
nature. There is no error more common or more fatal for 
the young man, as he starts out into the world, than is 
seen in the belief, that because he is intellectual, because 
his future is full of promise and his friends flatter him, he 
will therefore succeed in anything he undertakes. It is 
this very thing which is the cause of so many discourage- 
ments and so man}- failures, among those who are sure to 
learn by experience what they failed to discover by ob- 
servation and inquiry. How many stout and muscular 
men there are who might have been master mechanics or 
prominent agriculturists, or who could endure the fatigues 
of war, or manage a vessel on the ocean, and whom still, 
by some unlucky circumstance, we find fixed to the cushion 
of some lawyer's chair, patiently awaiting the appearance of 
a client : or who have been legally licensed to deal out 
physic to unsuspecting and hopeful victims ; or, again, 
who deliver to us dry and incomprehensible theology 
from their papers in the pulpit. It does not follow that 
because a man fails in one thing, he will not succeed in 
some other, or that because he succeeds in one thing, he 
will not fail in any other. Indeed, those who have ob- 
served the ways of nature carefully must have seen long 
ere this, that nature is very chary in her blessings, that if 
she endows a man with one great gift, she is apt to deny 
him every other. Do we not all know that great mathe- 
maticians, great singers, great painters and sculptors, great 
doctors and lawyers, architects and inventors, scholars and 
philosophers, are rarely apt to be anything more ? And 
still such is human nature, that men are ambitious of all 
distinction ; because they can write good prose, they must 
write poetry as well ; because they can sing, they must also 
dance ; because they can build a house or make a ship, 



328 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

they can therefore keep a stpre or conduct a hotel. Did 
not our late war prove clearly enough that a man might 
be an eminent lawyer, or an excellent statesman,or a very 
successful merchant, or an able mechanic, nay, he might, 
in times of peace, have been a promising militia brigadier, 
and yet it would not follow that for this reason alone he 
could command a division, or lead an army, in time of bat- 
tle ? Themistocles, the Grecian, admitted that though " he 
could make a small town a great city, nevertheless he 
could not fiddle." Addison was a great writer, but as a 
statesman, he was a greater failure. So, Napoleon could 
conquer Europe, but he could not turn an omelette. Cic- 
ero failed in poetry, Voltaire in comedy, and Johnson in 
tragedy. Thiers started as a lawyer and was compelled 
to give up the business as a failure. Burke aspired to lit- 
erary distinction, but never succeeded. His history of 
England was a failure, and his "Sublime and the Beautiful " 
deserves no great praise. Murat began life as a priest, and 
nearly all of Napoleon's marshals were taken from some 
unmilitary calling. Irving began as a lawyer, and gave 
up the business ; so did Winfield Scott. Andrew Jack- 
son began as a minister. Sir Humphre}' Davy was an 
apothecary's apprentice; Richard Owen, the Newton of 
natural history, began life as a midshipman, and followed 
a sea-faring life for many } r ears. 

It is by no means sufficiently borne in mind that every 
business, trade and profession, has a science belonging ex- 
clusively to itself, a science which we learn by experience 
and observation, developing certain little arts by which 
one may succeed, certain points needing great circumsjDec- 
tion, certain failures and discouragements which can be 
avoided only by experience, prudence and foresight. It 
is a science learned from practice, and not out of books ; 
besides, it is a study that is never completed. It there- 
fore becomes the young man to decide early upon the pur- 
suit he is to follow, and to direct all his efforts and con- 
centrate all his education upon this vital point. Arts 
which we may have acquired, and knowledge which we 






THE STUDY OF MAN. 829 

may have obtained, applicable only to one kind of busi- 
ness or profession, will seldom be of much avail for some 
other business or profession. Men, for example, who can 
teach a good school, can generally do little else. It is 
hence important that our line of life should be properly 
chosen in the first instance, because, if we turn back from 
it and enter some other, we must start again as apprentices. 
Byron says : — " A man must serve his time to every trade, 
save censure — here, all are ready made." 

We may here add the observations of Lord Bacon, in 
this connection ; " Young men in the conduct and manage 
of actions embrace more than they can hold ; fly to the 
end without considering the means and degrees ; pursuing 
some few principles which they have chanced upon, ab- 
surdly, care not to innovate, which draw unknown incon- 
veniences ; use extreme remedies at first and that which 
cloubleth all errors, will not acknowledge or retract them, 
like an unruly horse that will neither stop nor turn. Men 
of age object too much, consult too long, adventure too 
little, repent too soon, seldom drive business home to the 
full period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of 
success." 

Men are often too much in haste, in demanding returns 
from their enterprises ; they are too impatient for promo- 
tion. " I continued for many years " said Napoleon, 
"with the rank of lieutenant." "That may be, sire," re- 
plied General Rapp ; "but you have made up famously 
for your lost time." For some kinds of undertakings, the 
credits and rewards are necessarily remote. Men whose 
labors are for posterity alone, should not feel disappointed 
or uneasy if their merits are not recognized by their co- 
temporaries. Such is the case with nearly all inventions, 
and with all advances in science and philosophy. The 
public mind is rather slow in its perceptions and apprecia- 
tions ; it requires time to enable us to understand and mas- 
ter new ideas. Inventors frequently die in poverty 
and disappointment long before their works are properly 
presented to the public. It requires many years of per- 



330 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

sistent effort, it requires the help of both money and 
friends, to bring into credit any innovation. Even Sir 
Isaac Newton was not understood till many years after his 
own time. The great Gralileo was not only discredited, but 
persecuted. The inventor of steam propellers suffered 
many years of embarrassment and derision. Whitney, 
the inventor of the cotton-gin, never reaped any particular 
profit from it, and never was able to protect himself from 
the enroachments of his competitors. History is full of 
instances of men who have grown rich out of patents in- 
vented by men who themselves died poor and wretched. 

We conclude this subject with the remark that, in our 
opinion, what is popularly known as success, hardly com- 
pensates for the toil it requires and the trouble it oc- 
casions. We would never advise our young friends that 
it is the chief end of man to follow this ignis fatuus, and 
wander about in its pursuit till they tumble into the grave. 
We would rather warn them, that, after all their hard work, 
and the yearnings of their anxious and troubled hearts,, 
they will find, that, in the expressive words of Tom 
Moore : 

This world is all a fleeting show, 
For man's illusion given, 

The smiles of Joy, the tears of Woe, 

Deceitful shine, deceitful flow — 
There's nothing true but heaven ! 

And false the light on Glory's plume 

As fading hues of even ; 
And Love and Hope, and Beauty's bloom 
Are blossoms gathered for the tomb — 

There's nothing bright but Heaven ! 

It is only towards the end of a long and unsatisfactory 
pilgrimage in this w x orld, that we begin to feel and realize 
that the Bible teaches us simple wisdom and truth, when 
it warns us of the evanescence of human hopes, and re- 
minds us how little there is in all earthly riches to satisfy 
the longings of the heart, "Piety," says Dr. Johnson, 
" is the only proper and adequate relief of decaying man. 
He that grows old without religious hopes, as he declines 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 331 

into imbecility, and feels pains and sorrows incessantly 
crowding upon him, falls into a gulf of bottomless misery, 
in which every reflection must plunge him deeper, and 
where he finds only new gradations of anguish and preci- 
pices of horror." 



THE TRUE AIMS OF LIFE. 

The difference between man and other animals lies not 
in the body, but in the soul. So far as physical confor- 
mation is concerned, man is constructed on precisely the 
same plan as the lowest of earth's creatures. He has the 
same frame-work, the same circulation, the same necessi- 
ties : and his wants are supplied in exactly the same man- 
ner. He has also the same passions, the same inclinations, 
the same propensities as the lowest animal in the scale. 
Other animals can boast of an intellect in common with 
man : other animals can reason, reflect, and understand : 
like man. other animals are susceptible, to some extent, of 
improvement and education. But (rod in his wisdom has 
denied to them consciousness of moral rectitude. Of 
right, justice, and magnanimity they have no proper con- 
ception. They have appetites and passions : they have 
esteem and affection, but none of these are directed by 
Their whole life is sensual. Either the spirit 
does not exist in them at all. or if it does exist, it must be 
in a state that is at best only rudimentary. But when 
man does wrong, he knows the nature of his offence ; when 
he is unjust, he feels it : and when he is unprincipled, he 
is thoroughly conscious of the fact. 

Let man. then, endeavor to understand and appreciate 
the exalted position in which God has placed him. Let 
him see and believe that God has made him only a little 
lower than the angels — with all the obligations resting 
upon a being thus created. Let him never in his own degra- 
q descend from the lofty pinnacle where nature has- 
placed him. Let him not seek the level of the common 



332 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

brute. Lot him rather plume his wings for loftier flight, 
and by his exalted nobleness, prove his title to the blissful 
enjoyment of happier realms. Let the course of his life 
bs such, that the dignity of his race may never be tar- 
nished by his conduct ; and let such be his career that the 
line which separates him from the lower orders of the liv- 
ing creation may neither be obscured nor obliterated. 

Man is an animal, but he is pre-eminently a progn 
one. Nowhere in the wide world does improvement have 
its origin save in man alone ; everywhere on earth prog- 
ress is for him, from him, and through him. There is an 
impulse in man, an impulse felt by no other creature, 
which continually urges him onward. There are but two 
classes of animals that are inclined to remain substantially 
to-day where they were yesterday, and these are the drones 
and the brutes. The birds that built their nests in Eden, 
built them as all birds build them to-day. They sang 
their songs of love, reared their young, ate, drank, and 
died ; the birds of to-day do neither more nor less. But 
man starts his career as an untamed, though not untam- 
able, savage ; wild he is as the beasts, his companions ; he 
subsists by the same arts, and lives in the same manner. 
By degrees, urged on by an unseen, but irresistible im- 
pulse, he emerges from the shadows of the forest, and now 
for the first, becomes a man. 

That man has a mission to perform, a heaven-sent mis- 
sion, that he is not to take in his sustenance merely and 
vegetate like a plant, that in ministering to his own wants, 
h.e is not, like the animal, simply to destroy and devour, 
must be evident to even the most superficial observer. 
And yet there are those who call themselves philosophers, 
men who teach us that the chief end of man is to pursue 
Ms own enjoyment, and gratify his own desires ; or, trans- 
lated into plain language, that man should be an animal and 
no more. But, on the contrary, we claim that the effort of 
eveiy one should be to accomplish that which his soul 
impels him to do towards fulfilling the destiny of his race. 
How much enjoyment a man shall find in performing this 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 338 

work, is one of the last things he should be concerned 

about He should be anxious about his own ability and 
the means by which he is to bring about the desired ends, 
but never about the amount of toil and exertion, or 
trouble and vexation, which he must of necessity endure. 
Does the great man who has set about performing a cer- 
tain action, enquire whether his ways are to be those of 
pleasantness and peace ? Above all men, Napoleon, Caesar, 
Luther, and Oliver Cromwell, were not seekers of pleasure. 
He that hesitates at obstacles, and trembles at clangers, 
does not deserve the heritage that Grocl has set apart 
solely for the diligent and the persevering. He that in the 
struggles of life would bear aloft the banner of freedom 
and truth, must be heedless alike of anguish of heart and 
the menaces of death. There is more of true, calm cour- 
age to be seen in every day life than was ever exhibited 
on the battle-field. No man has ever shown more courage 
than Martin Luther before the Diet at Worms. Let it be 
decided then, once for all, that the question we should ask, 
is what we are to do, not how easily it may be done ; not 
how much it may add to our security or advancement, nor 
how much to our happiness and success. 

All men, of course, are not equally effective instruments 
in the hands of Providence. All men are not designed to 
be leaders and directors of the hosts of mankind, for if it 
were so, there would be no followers to be led. But every 
man has an infkience of some kind ; even his very indo- 
lence and supineness may have the effect to deter others 
from effort, on the predominating principle of imitation. 
There is in society no man so humble that he has not some 
followers, some that look up to him with admiration, some 
that are ever ready to repeat the experiment which he has 
made. Every one contributes his mite towards giving 
credit to some particular sentiment ; every one is more or 
less responsible for the opinions that prevail where he 
lives. By casting in the weight of his own body, he does 
so much towards giving momentum to the wave which 



334 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

must finally bear clown all resistance. It is, therefore, 
alike hazardous to the interests of humanity, whether men 
go wrong, or do not go at all. 



EVIDENCE. 



" False things," in the words of Cicero, " are so near to 
the true, that a wise man ought not to trust himself upon 
the precipice." Montaigne adds in the same connexion: 
" Truth and lies are faced alike ; their port, taste and pro- 
ceedings are the same." 

Our character and conduct is based upon our belief and 
our impressions. But upon what do we base our belief ? 
On evidence. It is very plain, then, that it is a matter 
of the gravest importance for us to have fixed notions 
upon the nature of evidence, that we may receive that 
which is reliable, and reject that which is false and decep- 
tive. 

In law, the matter of evidence is treated as an exact 
science. Its principles are laid down and defined with the 
greatest accuracy and care. Every possible safeguard is 
devised by which to prevent us from confounding error 
with truth. But in every-day life, where it is often as im - 
portant as it is in suits at law, where we decide the fate of 
others upon the basis of our belief, which belief, again, 
has grown up on evidence either irrelevant, doubtful or 
untrue, we seem to consider testimony as something the 
bearing and nature of which the most simple must under- 
stand. Is it to be wondered at, then, that innocent and 
honest men are cast out of society, and suffer the terrible 
fate of outlaws, on the mere suspicion of a disordered 
fancy, or on the testimony of incompetent or base witness- 
es ? As Christian people, we are taking an awful respon- 
sibility, when we deal thus lightly with the fate and fortune 
of our fellow-men. We take the place of inquisitor, of 
judge, of advocate, and jury. We hear the evidence, and 



/ 
THE STUDY OF MAN. 335 

examine it in our own bosom, and finally without reason, 
and often without right, consign a ruined soul to ever- 
lasting disgrace and infamy. 

And yet it is as true now as it was when Livy wrote it, 
hundreds of years ago, that "men have a natural desire to 
nourish reports." It is as natural as it is to breathe, for 
men, and women too, to listen to every absurd rumor, to 
nourish it, and give it strength and momentum. Yirgil's 
picture of the growth of a story is too beautiful and true 
not to be inserted here : " Eumor, than whom there is not 
another more swift. It becomes stronger by mobility, and 
acquires force in going ; small at first through fear, soon 
it raises itself to the skies. It walks upon the ground, but 
its head is hidden among the clouds. Parent Earth, irri- 
tated by the wrath of the gods, as they say, produced it 
last, sister to Coeus and Enceladus : swift of foot and with 
pernicious wings ; a monster horrid and great, to whom as 
man}' as there are feathers on his body, so many watchful 
eyes, wonderful to tell, so many tongues, so many mouths 
sound, and so many ears are seen erect. By night it sits 
at watch, either upon the highest house, or upon some 
lofty tower. It agitates great cities, more tenacious of the 
false and base, than of being a messenger of truth. With 
eagerness and delight, it fills the people with much speech, 
and reports equally the true and the false, and the things 
done as well as those not done." 

It is a strange fact that even men who are inclined to 
profit by experience, will not suffer themselves to become 
wiser on this subject of evidence. Men have occasion al- 
most ever}- day to find themselves deceived by appearan- 
ces, and to confess that to be false which they had be- 
lieved to be true. And yet they are as credulous to-day 
as ever ; what they hear they believe", and when they see 
with their own eyes, they feel they cannot possibly be 
mistaken. So people go on suspecting, affirming, and re- 
porting; and so witches are burned, and the innocent pun- 
ished. How much are we wanting in charity here, how 
much in all that which belongs to a jrious spirit and a 



336 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

Christian heart ! There is perhaps no greater sin, if we- 
take into account the misery it causes, than the sin of cre- 
dulity, and no trait more disgraceful than our fondness for 
defamation. 

We are inclined to think with St. Augustin, particularly 
where the welfare of others is concerned, that " 'tis better 
to bear toward doubt than assurance, in things hard to 
prove and dangerous to believe."' We have so often been 
deceived where we thought we could not be mistaken that, 
with Cicero, we hesitate greatly to affirm anything as cer- 
tain, which at best we can only prove to be eminently 
probable. It must never be forgotten that all proof is 
only an accumulation of testimony, which may or may 
not be true — there is no telling which. 

Our mistakes and failures in this world ought to teach 
us caution and forbearance. But in the matter of evi- 
dence, experience does not seem to produce that result 
We run to conclusions 'too hastily; Ave are too apt to 
take improper and inadequate premises as certain and 
conclusive proof. But what should we learn from our ex- 
perience ; what does all history teach us ? Simply this : 
That of nothing can we be so sure that we do not run the 
risk of finding ourselves deluded in the end. Nearly all 
the evidence we have in every day life is more or less cir- 
cumstantial ; and yet we treat our suspicions and imagina- 
tions as absolute and undoubted realities. But even what 
we see with our own eyes, and perceive with our own 
senses, cannot be taken as realty conclusive. For ex- 
ample : we point a pistol at a man ; we fire, and he falls 
dead. That alone does not prove that he died from the 
effects of a pistol-shot. The ball may never have touched 
him ; he may have died of fright, from the rupture of a 
blood vessel, or a disease of the heart. Still we would 
testify that we had killed him with the pistol-shot. Our 
senses often deceive us ; we often imagine we see and hear, 
what we do not see or hear. Take the feats of legerde- 
main : no one not thinking of a delusion, would hesitate 



THE STUDY OF ULAN. 337 

to affirm that that was really clone which was only pre- 
tended to be done. 

The story told of Sir Walter Raleigh is an illustration 
of what may happen to any one. While he was in. prison, 

he looked out one day into the yard in front, and saw a 
man strike another man. who appeared to be an officer. 
He saw the officer draw his sword and run the other 
through the body. The wounded man struck his adver- 
sary with a stick and brought him to the ground, and 
finally he himself sunk to the pavement. Then the guard 
came up and carried off the dead man, and also the 
wounded officer, now insensible. Here was a clear-headed 
man in his coolest moments. Let us see how he was de- 
ceived : The officer turned out to be a servant of an am- 
bassador: he gave the first blow ; he had not drawn his 
sword, but the other had snatched it from his side and run 
him through the body. It was a stranger who knocked 
the murderer down with his stick, and some of the am- 
bassador's retinue who carried off the corpse. Raleigh 
was at that time writing a History of the World ; but he 
concluded from this affair that if he could not believe his 
own eyes, he could not certainly rely on the accounts of 
what others had seen, and so he burned up his manu- 
script. Xo two persons ever agree in their account of any 
encounter which both have witnessed. They have seen 
with different eyes, and from different standpoints. The 
most notable events of history begin to be doubted. The 
tragic story of John Smith is now largely discounted, and 
so with George Washington, who could not tell a lie. 
Great men have often been pictured as doing what they 
never thought of performing. It is uncertain whether all, 
or only part, of Homer is fiction. It is not ascertained 
that such men as Achilles and Agamemnon ever lived. In 
scientific works, men are correcting to-day what they 
asserted boldly enough yesterday. The story of Adam 
is now generally doubted, and there are multitudes of good 
Christians who discard the whole of Genesis as a work of 
history. 



338 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

It is in this connexion that we wish to cantion the inno- 
cent and unsuspecting always to so conduct themselves, 
even in matters the most proper, in such a manner as best 
to avoid unfavorable or unpleasant suspicions. There are 
thousands of instances occurring every year, where the un- 
wary thus allow themselves to be caught, and are made to 
suffer consequences which they did not anticipate. No 
person can be too careful in this respect We must, of 
course, all run risks, but whenever it is feasible, every per- 
son should keep himself free from every suspicion of 
wrong. We must never forget that men suffer not accord- 
ing to the fact of their innocence or guilt, but according 
to the belief of their accusers and the opinion of their 
judges. Whenever it is possible, every person should 
have with him the means of proving his innocence of any 
charge which may be brought against him. In this want 
of caution lies one of the most fatal errors of mankind, 
but more especially of the young and inexperienced. The 
number of those who are punished, either on accusations 
which are false, or who ought really to be justified in 
what they have done, if the whole truth were known, 
is, we apprehend, immensely greater than many sup- 
pose. 

Again, if we are apt to believe too much, we are some- 
times inclined to believe too little. It is too much our 
custom to imagine that what we do not see, does not ex- 
ist. And yet it is a well known fact that the astronomer 
can discern stars in the sky, and sailors can distinguish 
ships or land in the distance, where we can see none. So 
an experienced painter can detect shades of coloring, and 
the musician certain delicate sounds which remain unper- 
ceived by the unpractised observer. 

When we consider how much of the fate of men hangs 
upon mere words, we shall be more careful how we use 
them. Every word conveys an idea and leaves an im- 
pression on the mind. It often happens that it is enough 
that a thing is said, to have it believed. Our first impulse 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 339 

is to consider true whatever we hear ; it requires a serious 
effort and considerable reflection to remove the belief from 
our minds. 



THE FAMILY. 



The most beautiful object in civilized society that meets 
the eye of the observer, is the happy and united family. 
There are no ties so strong as family ties ; no friendship is 
so enduring and self-sacrificing as that which is founded 
upon kinship. 

But all families are not united. Jealousies often arise. 
After the children grow up, selfishness, and consequent 
rivalries, develop rapidly. They find that they have a 
livelihood to gain for themselves, a fortune to build up 
by their industry and talents. Their interests cease to be 
in common ; in many instances, these interests are directly 
opposed. There is property to be divided, and the smaller 
the number, the larger the allotment to each. Hence, 
even the early death of a parent, or of a brother or sister, 
is not unfrequently a welcome event, affording to inter- 
ested parties secret satisfaction. 

To parents, the value of children, so far as it arises 
from the comfort they afford, is greatest while they are 
young. When they have grown up, they cease, to a large 
extent, to appear like children, and rather take the place 
of adult members of the family. When children are 
innocent and artless, when they listen to our words and 
follow our advice, then it is that they draw the most 
heavily upon our sympathies, and hojd the highest place 
in our hearts. 

Children are invaluable, but, at the same time, they are 
uncertain possessions. If they do what is proper, if the 
path they follow is that of rectitude and honor, they will 
be far more precious to their parents than either gold or 
jewels. They will carry forward the name, and perhaps 
add to the glory it may have obtained. They will be the 



34:0 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

support of declining years, the consolation and reliance of 
the aged and infirm, as they go slowly, but certainly, down 
to the grave. But the course of children is not alwa} 7 s 
found to be what their parents would either expect or de- 
sire. ~No one is so wise as to be able to determine in 
advance what the children he is rearing shall finally be- 
come. Those reared with the greatest care, and trained 
with the utmost jmiclence and skill, often turn out worst 
in the end. There is a waywardness and willfulness in 
some children that is as unaccountable as it is astounding. 
No kindness can affect them, no sorrowing move them, no 
beseeching or protesting arrest them in their downward 
career. ISTo education, no discipline, no counsel, no cau- 
tion, can afford any guaranty that children shall not do 
some foolish or disgraceful act in the end. It is proper, 
of course, to bring up children with the utmost care and 
judgment, but we must fortify ourselves against the pos- 
sible result, that after all our trouble and watchfulness, 
our efforts shall prove to be fruitless. Ah, who shall meas- 
ure the misery brought upon parents by the children they 
love ? Dearest possessions of earth as they are, how often 
are they the sources of unutterable sorrow and anguish to 
the mother that bore them ! Instead of adding to the 
wealth, influence and glory of the family, they weigh it 
down, too often, with their own shame and dishonor. — 
There is no way of escaping these calamities. The shame 
of a son or daughter must be, to a certain extent, the 
shame of the whole family. As we share in their glory 
when they rise, we must share in their disgrace when they 
fall. 

Much is said about parents living for their children, 
but we wish it were reversed, and that we might hear 
more about children living for their parents. We would 
not have parental affection diminished, but we would have 
filial affection increased. It is all well enough for parents 
to educate their children carefully, and prepare them for 
the responsible duties of life, but all beyond that is a work 
that brings but immoderate and unsatisfactory returns. It 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 341 

is labor and economy sadly misapplied, when parents toil 
and save, in order that their grown-up children may live 
in idleness and luxury. The most thankless and hurtful 
of all offerings, in many cases, are the gifts that parents 
bring to their children. In accepting such gifts, they con- 
sider that they are merely taking what belongs to them. 
It is an unfortunate fact that children count very largely 
upon what their well-to-do parents shall leave them when 
they die, instead of depending, from the beginning, upon 
the results of their own unaided efforts. To a limited 
extent, parents might aid and encourage their children 
when they begin life for themselves, but, as a rule, the 
only money that young people know how to use, is that 
which they earn for themselves. One of the chief causes 
of failure among the sons of the rich, is that they have 
never learned to make use of those energies which nature 
gave them, and hence they find themselves unable to 
guard and hold that property Avhich devoted parents have 
left them for an inheritance. It is too often the case, at 
the present day, that children desire to begin where their 
parents leave off, instead of beginning to live with pru- 
dence and economy, as their fathers and mothers did be- 
fore them. It is a serious mistake which parents often 
make, to place themselves at the mercy of chance and 
their children. The old home should always be preserved 
intact, as a reserve for any of the family to fall back upon 
in case of an emergencv Prudence is always better than 
misguided affection, or than liberality misapplied. 



HOUSES AND HOMES. 

Much of the enjoyment of a family, and much of the 
satisfaction there is in living, depends upon the house in 
which they reside, and which they consider their home. A 
house to be pleasant and home-like, must be properly lo- 
cated as to its surroundings, and, above all, it must be 
conveniently, comfortably and judiciously constructed. It 



342 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

is highly desirable that the outside shall be tastefully and 
elegantly designed, but what is of greater importance to 
the family, is the plan of construction for the interior. 
Convenience is a great point — it does so much to smoothe 
the path of life, and render the members of the family 
cheerful. Inconvenience and discomfort is a perpetual 
source of annoyance, and serves to render people irritable 
and unhappy. 

But where the great mistake is made by people who 
build houses for homes, in these days, is in having them 
too large and expensive. Many a family has been ruined 
by trying to build a house a little larger and a little more 
showy than some one else in the neighborhood. If people 
have more money than they can well find use for, and 
take a satisfaction in spending it, putting it into some 
large and attractive building that may remain as a monu- 
ment to themselves, as well as a specimen of fine archi- 
tecture to be enjoyed by the public, is a very sensible, as 
well as creditable step. But that applies to few men. 
Most people desire a house simply for the wants of the 
family, and they can generally find use for all the surplus 
money that remains. 

But aside from this question of means and the use of 
means, a house that is too large is not properly a home. 
It is simply an< edifice. It might answer for a castle, a 
seminary, or a public building of some kind, but it does not 
look like a home, and to those who dwell there, it does 
not seem like a home. The family are lost in the empti- 
ness of the structure. Moreover, a large house implies a 
great expenditure yearly, both of money and labor, to 
maintain it in usable condition and presentable shape. It 
implies large grounds, well laid out. • It implies horses 
and carriages, buildings to put them in, and servants to 
take care of them. It implies a vast amount of toil to 
keep the rooms in order. Moreover, large and expensive 
homes must be retained by the owner, for it is a rare thing 
that these can be sold for anything near their original cost. 
The country is full of large estates that have been aban- 
doned by their founders. The families have soon tired of 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 343 

them, and have sought other homes more suited to their 
tastes, and better adapted to their wants. In many cases, 
the property has been sold by the sheriff ; and in other 
cases, the buildings have been left without occupants, and 
have sunk into a state of dilapidation and ruin. 

It is a great point gained when a family have secured a 
home of their own, and it is a serious mistake that the 
American people make in changing their location so fre- 
quently as they do. It is well worth the spare time and 
spare money of a lifetime to beautify, extend and improve 
a home. No outward sign affords a better index to a 
man's taste, or intelligence, or to his position in society, 
than the place where he resides, and which he calls his 
home. 



IMPKESSIONS. 



Every man's conduct and course of life is strictly the 
result of his own impressions. It is important then to 
study carefully the nature of our ideas and their causes. 

All our impressions, however much they may be pro- 
duced by fictions, are yet realities themselves. Where my 
thoughts are, there I am. Were not the gods of the Pa- 
gans as real as anything made by man ? Their idols rep- 
resented an idea, and left upon their minds an impres- 
sion. They put their gods in shape, while we simply do 
not. Are there not many real things which we only think 
of, things that never appear in form to our eyes ? Is not 
our God, our soul, our mind, a real existence ? But yet 
they neither have forms visible to us, nor qualities percep- 
tible through the senses. 

Nicolai affirms that "he who is most at his ease, most 
gay, most penetrated with joy, seems most happy when 
even his joy is born of chimeras." And Pascal says : "It 
seems to me that I dream ; for life is a dream a little in- 
constant." It is hard to tell precisely how much we are 
influenced by realities, and how much by fancy or imagin- 



3±-L PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

ation. The two are so blended, and so hard to be distin- 
guished, that we cannot draw any line between them. As 
we have intimated before, that which a man believes, is 
fact for him, not fiction. 

There are many curious things in the history of impres- 
sions. There are many stories of strange fancies and wild 
conceits ; they are simply extravagant and extreme 
cases, and our own history will furnish us with instances 
which are strictly parallel. Among others, we read of a 
trader who conceived that he was a seven shilling piece, 
and advertised that, " If my wife presents me for payment, 
don't change me." Another man thought himself so large 
as to be unable to pass through a certain doorway. To 
prove to him his error, his friends once forced him through 
it ; but then, as might have been expected, he conceived 
his flesh torn and his bones broken in the operation, and 
under this delirious impression, he died. One man in 
Paris believed he had been guillotined, and that after- 
wards, when Napoleon became Emperor, the lost heads 
were restored, but that in the scramble, he got the wrong 
head on the wrong shoulders. Eev. John Mason, of Eng- 
land, an able man, believed himself Elias, and in that be- 
lief he died. But of all dreadful forms which this strange 
hallucination takes, none are so terrible as that of the 
lycanthropy, which at one period spread through Europe ; 
in which the unhappy sufferers, believing themselves 
wolves, went prowling about the forests, uttering the most 
terrific howlings, carrying off lambs from the flocks, and 
gnawing dead bodies in their graves. 

The most interesting case of impressions is that of M. 
Boutibouse, a French savant who once served in the army 
of Napoleon. He was at the terrible battle of Wagram. 
Yery many about him had fallen, but he so far had es- 
caped unharmed. At length, however, the fatal ball came, 
hitting him, as he believed, on the legs below the knee, 
and making him shorter by twelve inches at least. He fell 
backward, and lay on the ground paralyzed and motion- 
less. He laid where he had fallen all night ; he felt no 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 345 

pain. but he knew that his lower limbs were cut off. He 
was aroused in the morning by those who were visiting 
the wounded, with the inquiry: What is the matter with you, 

d fellow? "Ah, touch me tenderly, I beseech, you,'' 
said he. " A cannon ball has carried off my legs, you see." 
The party hurst out in a laugh on hearing this absurd 
story. •' Get up,'* said one of them, " there is nothing the 
matter with you." M. Boutibouse sprang up, the most re- 
joiced man one ever saw, truly thankful that it was a 
mistake after all. A cannon ball had indeed ploughed up 
the earth under his feet, and let him down perhaps a foot 
or more. How many men, like him, have believed them- 
selves mortally wounded, who were in fact scarcely in- 
jured at all ! 

Harvey Ilkey. a little colored boy, had his leg crushed 
in Hartford. Ct.. by the horse railway cars. When picked 
up. he was asked if he was badly hurt? "Yes sir," was 
his answer. '' How do you feel?' 1 He replied with con- 
siderable earnestness, " Oh, I am dead, sir." 



SELECT SENTIMENTS. 

If a man has much, much will be demanded of him. 
Erom him that hath little, little is generally expected. 

How many causes have been lost for want of some mas- 
ter mind: — some one to lead, some one to command, some 
one to organize and combine ! One hundred disciplined 
men properly armed and directed will be found a match 
for a mob of at least ten thousand. 

It is not work that tells in this world. Yes, it is work, 
but not work alone. Work without prudence and cau- 
tion, or work without tact and perseverance, will accom- 
plish nothing. There is such a thing as skill that is worth 
a hundred times as much as mere brute exertion. There 
are plenty of men who work, and still do not succeed, and 
the reason is that their work is not properly directed. 



346 PKACTICAL LIFE AND 

It never pays to be on two sides of any question ; and 
very rarely does it pay to be on neither. A man that is 
on both sides, is always esteemed a hypocrite and trim- 
mer, while the one who is on neither side, is regarded as 
being either cowardly or vacillating. The one who al- 
ways commands respect, is the one who has opinions of 
his own, and stands up like a man. 

It is a very strange fact that people can enjoy nothing- 
unless they own or possess it. If there be a charming: 
lake, or a delightful valley, or an interesting rivulet, open 
alike to all the world to see and enjoy, most men even 
then would not be satisfied, unless it was their property, 
and secured to them by a quit-claim deed, or some other 
evidence of title. They are never contented, until they 
can see their brand upon it somewhere. 

There are extremes everywhere and in everything. 
There is good and evil, truth and falsehood, virtue and 
vice, health and sickness, happiness and misery, and we 
find the world, or the people of the world, constantly 
vibrating between them. A negative is absolutely neces- 
sary to the existence of a positive. Opposites go hand in 
hand, or side by side, everywhere. 

As a matter of fact, human beings, even the most pre- 
cocious, are born with very little knowledge. There is 
scarcely anything worth knowing, that they do not have- 
to be taught at some time in their life. Some learn more 
quickly and more easily than others, but even the most 
apt must have their instructors and instruction like the 
rest. The amateur is the only exception, if exception he 
proves to be. He is a prodigy, a born professor, artist, and 
genius, for whom Nature's teachings have no value, and 
for whom the experience and lessons of the past are of no- 
account. 

It is a most lamentable fact that the biggest rascals in 
the world remain unsuspected. They carry their heads. 
with a great show of modesty and reserve, and wear an 
affecting look of innocence abroad. They go around 
preaching about this man and that man, and telling every- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 347 

body what terrible bad people they are. " They always 
knew they were just such fellows. It is just what they 
expected, long, long ago." The hypocrites ! If half these 
men had their honest dues, they would have been in the 
penitentiary long since. If they have not stolen anything, 
it is only from the absence of a favorable opportunity. 

There is a very liberal sprinkling of men in the world 
who are brilliant without being sensible. Such men are 
uniformly failures. Quick wit, keen perception, deep 
penetration, great originality and amazing genius, all these 
are valuable and important in their way, but all put to- 
gether will not weigh so much in the common affairs of 
life as even a moderate amount of common sense. Bright 
flashes of wisdom startle and amaze the beholder, but they 
have none of the life-giving and life-sustaining power that 
comes from the unfailing treasures of a well-balanced and 
sound mind. 



THE USE OF EVIL. 



We hate error and vice, and wickedness generally, and 
yet we are compelled to confess that these things have 
done a great amount of good. If this world had not 
needed the services of a Devil, we take it there never 
would have been one. The Devil has done, quite unin- 
tentionally no doubt, a great deal of good, after all that 
has been said against him. He keeps sinners busy, and 
righteous people, too, for that matter. He hurries a great 
many bad men to the gallows or to prison, and thus helps 
to get such wicked people out of the way. He makes the 
honest man active and vigilant, and so always keeps some- 
thing for him to do. He shows how good a thing virtue 
is, by contrasting it with the blackness of vice and iniquity. 
He leads us to appreciate peace and plenty, by giving us 
an occasional taste of the miseries of war and want In- 
deed, the Devil plays an important part in this world, and 
we do not see how it could dispense with his valuable ser- 



348 PRACTICAL LIFE AND * 

vices. The very best results have often come through the 
most wicked instrumentalities. The founders of many a 
new government have been bad, as well as adventurous, 
men. Barbarous as Pizarro and Cortez were, they evi- 
dently had their mission to perform. Even the wicked- 
ness of the Inquisition was not without some good results. 
Bad as slavery was, and much as it did to ruin one part of 
our country, it can still put forth well-founded claims for 
the substantial benefits it wrought. We have only to re- 
peat here, in this connection, the sentiments expressed by 
us several years since, in " Eeligion and the Bible " : 

There is no evil unmixed with good, and no good un- 
alloyed with evil. A good to me is a harm to another. 
There is no wind so ill that it does not blow some good to 
somebody. Doctors live on the miseries of others, and 
undertakers thrive on the income that death affords them. 
Our worst conflagrations merely cause a redistribution of 
property and funds. Some fall by the misfortune, but as 
many rise by it. War brings desolation to some, but pros- 
perity and happiness to many more. A thing is good or 
ill, according to the point from which it is viewed. Any- 
thing may be good and bad at the same time, that is, good 
from one stand-point, and bad from some other. 

Why say a man does wrong ? What does that mean ? 
He transgresses some law, some conventional rule, perhaps. 
Say he steals. It is not half so bad as we think it, to steal. 
We all steal, and we all would steal more, if we could do 
so and be sure that no harm would come to us for doing 
it — at least, our hearts have a moderate tendency that way. 
Our high sense of honor turns out to be, generally, well 
directed selfishness. Men are honest chiefly because they 
find it necessary to be so. Most of what we gain, we pre- 
vent others from getting. It is our cunning, our diligence, 
our prompt action, that has perhaps given us the advan- 
tage over them. All our gains are mere transfers from 
other men's pockets to our own. Our sharpest, shrewdest 
speculators are simply our most adroit pickpockets. 

Much of our crime is either good or bad, as we look at 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 349 

it Men are not half so bad as we take them to be, or 
rather, they are not so much worse than other folks as we 
assume. The worst criminal is human. He has done 
perhaps what the best of men desired, but did not dare, or 
did not find it advisable, to do. It is the heart that fixes the 
crime. We condemn robbers, and yet there it not a foot 
of land owned on this planet that is not held simply by 
the right of conquest ! Take our farms ; where did we 
.get them? Of our fathers. And where did they get 
them ? Of the Aboriginies. They were the stronger 
party. They drove off the Aborigines, or killed them, 
and now their children enjoy this peaceful inheritance ! 
We derive our titles chiefly from such heroes as William 
the Conqueror, and Alexander the Great, bold robbers, 
who had might and skill on their side. The beasts of 
prey are robbers and murderers in our sight, and how 
much less are we in theirs ? We are in antagonism with 
everything in nature. The wind, the heat, the cold, the 
waves, the dust, gravity itself, all oppress us : but must 
they be banished as evils ? Everything that lives, not 
weevils, and worms, and rats, and robins, alone, every- 
thing that lives, must devour. 

The most daring criminals are perhaps as necessary to 
the continued success and elevation of society, as the 
best of men. The thief and pickpocket play their part. 
They at least keep us busy. They sharpen our intellect. 
They make us vigilant and active. We detest criminals, 
but we must acknowledge their importance in the economy 
of nature. Without obstacles, nothing moves. Without 
•obstacles, society would never progress. Shall we sup- 
pose God made anything in vain ? Does he not protect 
with as much care the most heartless robber as the most 
devout Christian ? Is God himself not wise ? Does he 
not understand our needs ? If we were going to condemn 
.and cast off what was hurtful to each one, there would be 
nothing left in the world, for there is nothing that is not 
injurious to some one. Is sickness not as necessary to 
our welfare as sound health ? Do not plagues and storms 



350 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

save ourselves, at the same time that they hasten others to 
destruction ? Is an insect a pest, because in seeking to 
live, it destroys our harvest ? What shall the insect say 
of us, when it sees us grudge the very little that it asks 
for its daily subsistence ? What would become of us, if 
the law which we apply to the feeble creatures around us, 
were applied to our noble selves ? Is it the golden rule 
that we are daily applying in our treatment of these poor 
wretches ? It is an absurd fancy, a monstrous claim, that 
men only have rights. The world just begins to see it. 
Hence our laws to prevent cruelty to animals. Strange 
that the world had to be 6,000 years old, and over, before 
we could come up to the understanding that Grod meant 
that other creatures should live upon the earth besides 
Christians and Jews ! 

In the eyes of God, it is evident enough that evil has no 
such meaning as it has for as. In a comprehensive view, 
everything is good. Nothing is plainer than that Grod or- 
ders the evil as well as the good. Or, if he does not, who 
does? 

The bad man is just as much impelled by his nature 
and circumstances to do wrong, as the righteous man is to 
do right Then why should we persecute and oppress the 
wicked ? No, pity them, restrain them, educate them, 
elevate them, but do not hate and harass them. Indeed, 
what is the difference after all between good men and bad 
men? The worst men have their redeeming excellencies , 
and the best of men can boast of but little more. 

But shall we resist not evil ? Certainly we shall. Re- 
sistance to evil is just as much fated and necessary as evil 
is itself. They are counterbalancing forces. We must 
have rights, and duties, and obligations. We must have 
rules and laws, or we ourselves would descend to the 
level of savages. Nearly all our rules grow out of a sense 
of our own weakness. Hence we all abominate cheats, 
and tricks, and stratagems. We may protect ourselves, 
and secure ourselves from disease and starvation, but we 
can do little more. Relentless robbers as we are, let us 



THE STUDY OF MAN 351 

not be too unmerciful to those of our kind. It is our 
feebleness alone that makes us good. The man who aids 
us most we prize the highest. We oppose criminals, just 
as they oppose us. We simply counteract their move- 
ments, and prevent their evil doings, — nothing more. 



THE NATURE OF SIN. 

The people of the present day have a very inadequate, 
if not a very mistaken, idea of the nature and import of 
sin. They seem to think it a sin to take Grod's name in 
vain ; a sin, a very great sin, to break the Sabbath ; a sin 
not to go to church ; a sin not to send money every year 
to the heathen ; a sin not to pray, especially not to have 
family prayer every morning ; a sin not to pay pew rent 
promptly ; and a sin not to believe all that is laid down in 
the ritual. 

But many of these same people do not think it is a sin 
to lie. How many are there who decline to tell a false- 
hood, because they think it is wicked to do so ? There are 
many church members who will tell a lie on the slightest 
cause, and sometimes even without any cause. And of 
those who do not lie, how many refrain from doing so be- 
cause they are afraid Grod will find it out, and punish them 
for the wickedness ? Is it not rather because they think 
it unmanly, or impolite, or improper, to lie, or because 
they dread the disgrace it would entail upon them among 
their fellow men ? 

And how is it with stealing ? If there were no earthly 
punishment against stealing, no penalties incurred, no 
odium attached, thieving would be ten times as common 
as it is now. Numbers of our most zealous Christians, as 
well as those not Christians, would steal, we fear, when 
favorable opportunities offered themselves. As to dis- 
pleasing God, and suffering the tortures of the damned, 
they would take their chances, and imagine, perhaps, they 
could either deceive the Devil or buy their way out. 



352 PEACTICAL LIFE AND 

And perjury? Is it the regard for the holy book on 
which men testify, that wrings from them the truth ? Is it 
the fear of Grod, or the love of Christ, or the dread of a 
hereafter, that makes them choose truth rather than false- 
hood, when brought upon the stand ? No, it is nothing 
more nor less than fear of the law, and it is a fact well 
known and recognized in every enlightened Christian com- 
munity, that numbers of earnest, loud-talking believers, 
men in the church, as well as out of it, would not hesitate 
to swear to a lie, provided their interests demanded it, 
and they were certain of escaping detection. Lying is the 
prevailing crime of the age, and there is no great difference 
between telling a lie and swearing to it 

And there is adultery and fornication? Do people 
really believe such things are wicked ? And do they act 
as if they believed so ? Do they abstain from the practice, 
when they do abstain, because they are afraid of displeas- 
ing Grod ? We venture to say that what Grod may think 
of their conduct, never gives them the least concern. If 
they can only conceal their peccadilloes from society, they 
seem to feel pretty certain that God will never find them 
out. There is no crime in the decalogue more severely 
condemned, or more frequently referred to, in the Bible, 
than the violation of this same seventh commandment 
And yet there is no crime more common at the present 
day, or which is getting to be more excusable in the eyes 
of men, than that of adultery. 

These which we have thus far mentioned are leading 
crimes against nature, against society and against Grod, but 
what shall we say of the lesser crimes of ill-treating our pa- 
rents, of dealing falsely with our neighbors, of putting the 
best on the outside, of cheating in measure, of oppressing 
the poor, of defrauding creditors, of taking usury, of neglect- 
ing the destitute, of revenging ourself upon our enemies, 
coveting what is our neighbor's, being avaricious, devoted 
to lust, and disregarding, generally, our plain duties to Grod 
and to man ? How many believe that these shall stand 
in the way of their going to heaven ? How many believe 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 353 

that these small matters are recorded in the one great book 
to be read on the day of judgment ? How many ? Alas r 
they are few, very few. Somehow or other, people have 
come to believe that if they are members of some ortho- 
dox church, if they have kept up with the forms, if their 
record is good, and their standing high, if they have gone 
down on their knees every morning, and sung a hymn 
every night, that is enough not only to pass them safely 
into heaven, but ensure them a reserved seat when they 
get there. 

But the common sense of the thinking world is opposed 
to such doctrines. It is opposed to the idea that the Bible 
is a fraud, and religion a sham. The deception, trickery 
and foolery is not in the Bible, but out of it. The sham 
is not in religion, but in the people who pervert and abuse 
religion. The Bible is the only rock upon which society 
can found itself, and build with safety. Science is feeble ; 
art is helpless ; culture is short-sighted and delusive. On 
the glorious teachings of Christ and the apostles alone 
may we repose in security. They are as immutable as 
the heavens. They reveal to us the wisdom of the Al- 
mighty. But woe to the man who sets up his own dic- 
tum as better than God's. Woe to the blind guide who, 
in the madness of his presumption, discards the straight 
and narrow path, and leads his fellow man down to death, 
and destruction. 



SCIENCE AKD THE PBOFESSIOKS. 

What has science done for mankind? It is hard an- 
swering this question, as no one really knows what science 
has done. It would be easier to enumerate the things that 
science had neither done, nor been able to do. People 
boast of what they know, but how very absurd are most 
of their pretensions! In much that they imagine they 
know, they merely deceive themselves. There is little, if 
anything, that science has really established. What we 



354 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

consider that we know, is merely what we have come to 
believe. What convinces us, does not necessarily con- 
vince others ; and what seems truth to us, seemed falsehood 
to our predecessors, and will doubtless seem false to those 
who come after us. In all science, we merely discuss 
and theorize. It is so in mathematics, and it is strikingly 
so in metaphysics, chemistry, astronomy, geology, and in 
all those matters which we are taught to consider as estab- 
lished by science. We assert this and assert that, and 
finally come to natter ourselves that our assertions are 
equivalent to positive demonstration. 

In this connexion, let us consider the professions, which 
deal chiefly with science, and which pretend to guide and 
preserve men. To begin with law, 'what do lawyers do 
for the race? Our answer must be, that they do more 
harm than good. Indeed, lawyers do not study law as a 
science, but as an art. A person would naturally suppose 
that the chief business of lawyers would be to ascertain 
what was right, and see that justice was done ; but as a 
matter of fact, their skill is exhibited most frequently in 
efforts to enable the guilty to escape the punishment which 
they deserve. If a man has a clear case, he has little need 
of a lawyer. It is only where he finds himself in a dan- 
gerous or doubtful predicament, that the services of a 
sharp and skillful lawyer are deemed indispensable. 

The main business of a lawyer ought to be to settle dis~ 
putes, but, in practice, he sees that his continued existence 
as a professional man depends not upon the settlement, 
but the continuance and multiplication of disputes. As 
to real knowledge, even of the very subject of which he 
pretends to be master, it is found to be generally of the 
most limited character. What he prophesies on the re- 
sults of a trial which is to be held, is little more to be 
relied on than the predictions to be found in a penny 
almanac. In fact, in every case, either the defence or the 
prosecution will be found to be mistaken. 

In many cases, perhaps in most cases, the lawyer can- 
not tell what the law is. Indeed, it is always a hard thing 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 355 

for any man to ascertain what is the law, for the simple 
reason that the law depends upon the construction given 
to the language of the books by the last judge, or last 
judges, before whom the case is brought. Many a litigant 
has found to his sorrow that there is, finally, no other law 
than that of decisions. Not what is enacted, or written, 
but what is decided by the judge, or the bench, is law. 

We conclude that the world would be as well off with- 
out lawyers — possibly better. In too many cases, they 
play the part of seconds in a prize fight. They hold the 
bottle, spur on the combatants, keep well out of danger 
themselves, let the principals take all the hard knocks — 
and, "finally, when the battle is ended, they come in for 
the biggest share of the prize money. 

And how is it with the doctors ? They are better men 
as a class ; they are certainly more philanthropic and have 
worthier aspirations than lawyers, but how amazing is their 
ignorance, compared with what they presume, or are pre- 
sumed, to know ! By some, they are supposed to know 
all about diseases and the cures thereof. But in fact, they 
know very little about the nature of diseases, and still less 
about the causes and cures of the same. Most doctors 
are honest men, and possessed alike of talent and good 
intentions, but it is well known that there are quacks, and 
that their number is very great. Quacks, are a natural, 
we may say inevitable, result of the prevailing stupidity 
of the masses. When people get sick, they at once become 
frightened, and when people are frightened, they are ready 
to believe in any one, or in any thing, that promises 
escape from the dangers they apprehend. The credulity, 
we might better say imbecility, of mankind, is almost 
beyond conception. If it were not so, patent medicine men 
w^ould fare badly indeed ; but as it is, they are a most 
prosperous and presumptuous race. It is well known 
that most of these medicines are frauds. The same term 
will not apply to the drugs used by regular physicians, 
for the reason that in their use there is no intention to 
deceive, but so far as healing the sick is concerned, we 



356 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

doubt whether, as a rule, they are much more efficacious 
than those very patent medicines which the regular phy- 
sicians so generally condemn. Indeed, in the character 
of patent medicines, and that of medicines prescribed by 
the doctors, we see realty no difference, except that one 
is already prepared for the patient, while the other is 
merely described, or prescribed, in the books. 

There is the same uncertainty in medicine as in any 
other science — no more, possibly, but certainly no less. 
All science is mainly speculative, and the medical science 
is largely so. The great misfortune of the latter is that 
its theories must be put to the test, — the experiment must 
be tried upon the human body — and it often happens, 
unfortunately, that the theory proves to be unsound, the 
experiment fails, and the patient dies. 

Even at this late day, very little is known as to what 
medicine can certainly accomplish. Some take medicine, 
and die, while others take medicine and recover, but whether 
the patient would live or die without medicine, can never 
be positively ascertained. The doctors have a way — and 
very natural it is too — of saying, if the patient survives, 
that it is the medicine that saved him, but if he dies, it is 
nature, or disease, that killed him. 

But, it is a well known and admitted fact, that in severe 
and dangerous cases of disease, the doctors, even the most 
learned and talented of the profession, are utterly help- 
less. Consumption, Bright's disease, erysipelas, diphtheria, 
cholera, many cases of malignant fever, and a host of others, 
when fairly seated, are entirely beyond the doctors' power. 
Honest men admit this — it is only quacks and impostors 
that claim more. Medicine in these cases may alleviate — 
but it can seldom do more. In fact, if medicine alone could 
cure one case of a certain disease, it could cure all of that- 
kind, and deaths would finally come to be very rare. 
But to enumerate the few classes of disease, all of them 
mild in character, that yield uniformly to the power of 
medicine, would be a very easy task. Medicine cannot 
even do so much as to cure a cough, or the headache, or 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 357 

toothache, or a hundred other little ailments — then, why- 
should it pretend to master dangerous or critical cases ? 

No matter how much or how little good medicine is 
doing, it is an admitted fact that in many cases, it does 
much harm. Powerful remedies are as often harmful in 
one way, as they are helpful in another. Instead of aid- 
ing nature in working out its own cure, they often check 
its operations, and thus prevent, instead of promoting, a 
cure. There is quinine, for instance, which doubtless 
sometimes checks intermittent fever, but it certainly is, 
when given to excess, often the cause of great harm to 
the patient. Calomel and mercury, much used at one 
time, and morphine, aconite, and other medicines so popu- 
lar at present, might be adduced as other instances. 

It may be set down as a fact, that medicines which are 
claimed to cure several different diseases, can really cure 
none of them. They doubtless do as much good in one 
case as another — that is, no good at all. 

The unstable foundation upon which the science of 
medicine stands, is best shown by the short periods during 
which the popularity of certain remedies and treatments 
continues. It used to be bleeding, and leeches, and calo- 
mel, and mercury, and such things. Now these are con- 
demned, and are rarely used. But who will show that 
the remedies and treatments that have taken their place 
are any better ? How long will it be before quinine, aconite, 
iron, morphine, opium, potash, vaccine matter, and all 
such modern favorites, will also be condemned and cast 
aside? 

Dr. Wood, a very high medical authority says : " Ex- 
perience is said to be the mother of wisdom. Yerily, she 
has been, in medicine, rather a blind leader of the blind, 
and the history of medical progress is a history of men 
groping in the darkness, finding seeming germs of truth, 
one after another, only in a few minutes to cast each back 
to the vast heap of forgotten baubles, that in their day 
had also been mistaken for verities. In the past, there is 
scarcely a conceivable absurdity that men have not tested 



358 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

by experience, and for a time found to be the thing de- 
sired in the present. Homeopathy and other similar 
delusions are eagerly embraced and honestly believed in 
by men who rest their faith upon experience." 

And the Medical Gazette, of Vienna, has the following : 
"Building goes on briskly at the therapeutic Tower of 
Babel. What one recommends, another condemns ; what 
one gives in large doses, another scarce dares to prescribe 
in small doses ; and what one vaunts as a novelty, another 
thinks not worth rescuing from merited oblivion. All 
is confusion, contradiction, inconceivable chaos. Every 
country, every place, almost every doctor, has his own 
pet remedies, without which, he imagines his patients can- 
not be cured ; and all this changes every year, aye, every 
month !" 

What better evidence do we want than this from the 
doctors themselves? Still, people will go on buying and 
swallowing medicine ad infinitum. They will give the 
new remedy at least a trial — it cannot do any harm, they 
say, and it may do some good. But the fact is, that aside 
from the expense incurred, the incessant and injudicious 
use of drugs does do harm, a great deal of harm. There 
is some truth in the answer of the Lacedemonian, who, 
when asked what made him live so long, said it was 
"ignorance of medicine." 

We are not disposed to deny that doctors do a great 
amount of good, in certain ways — and if they do not do 
more good, it is not their fault. A man who undertakes 
to tinker the human frame, with all its intricate and mys- 
terious machinery, undertakes a very delicate, and often 
dangerous, task. In seeking to improve upon nature, he 
often ruins the whole structure. But the advice of the 
doctors is of great service to society, in enabling people 
to escape, or provide against, diseases. By study and ex- 
perience, they have acquired a much better knowledge of 
anatomy, physiology and hygiene, than those who have 
never given special attention to these subjects. They 
have become acquainted with the nature and course of 



THE STUDY OF MAN". 359 

diseases, and they can, in many cases, tell what should be 
done, and what may be expected. They understand the 
matter of nursing, and are able to give valuable directions 
as to the treatment of the patient In surgery also, the 
medical profession has been of great service to the race. 

Of the remaining profession, theology, we have less to 
say. Ministers as a class certainly do little harm, but just 
how much good they do, is quite an open question. We 
have not the utmost confidence in preaching, either on 
Christianity or any other subject. People listen to good 
advice, and are entertained by the speaker, but the impres- 
sion soon disappears, and the effect is lost. However, 
ministers have one great advantage over lawyers and doc- 
tors. It is hard testing the truth of their theories, and 
whether they really save men or not, it is rarely possible 
to determine. They say they keep people out of hell, and 
send them on the sure road to heaven. But how shall we 
ever ascertain for a fact whether a man' goes to heaven or 
the other place ? As pastors, as good men leading their 
fellow men in the straight and narrow way, as ministering 
angels visiting the sick and consoling the afflicted, clergy- 
men are doubtless of very great benefit to society. But 
we must say of them, as we would of lawyers and doctors, 
their numbers might be smaller, and society would still 
get along as well. 

Teaching is sometimes called a profession, but it hardly 
deserves that name, and we shall not so treat it here. 



• HAPPINESS. 



" Pleasure," says the "Idler," " is seldom found where it is 
sought. Our bright blazes of gladness are commonly 
kindled by unexpected sparks." 

" The happiness of any man depends more upon the 
state of his own mind, than upon any external circum- 
stances ; nay, more than upon all external things put to- 
gether." Unalloyed pleasure is not only inaccessible, but 



360 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

unapproachable ; it is one of the phantoms of the world, 
one of those deceitful fairies of the middle ages, besetting 
the path of the weary and uncertain traveler, and leading 
him astray. 

The picture of human happiness as the world conceives 
and presents it, betrays a shameful ignorance of the ways 
of nature and the laws of God. Those who believe in such 
happiness, and worship at its shrine, are ignorant idolaters, 
who confide only in images of wood and stone. Its doc- 
trines are those of error and falsehood, and they entail upon 
its followers that burden of suffering and disappointment 
which error and falsehood are sure to impose. 

But is there nothing of what may be truly called happi- 
ness and pleasure ; is there not something which may be 
considered the antipodes of misery and wretchedness? 
Most assuredly there is, but it has a very different charac- 
ter and a very different form from that which is usually 
assigned to it. It is not specious and glittering ; it is real 
and substantial, something which does' the heart good, 
something which affords a solace to human life, and brings 
joy to the soul. It will not deceive us, if we do not over- 
estimate its powers, and if we remember that it is earthly and 
not heavenly ; that like pure gold, it is always mixed with 
much dross, and like the finest roses, is often hedged in by 
sharpest thorns. 

God has indeed so constituted us, and the things about 
us, that everything we look upon may be pleasing to our 
eyes. The world in which we live is a paradise, if we 
choose to so consider it. Nature is full of beauty, and 
should cause our hearts to overflow witfc gladness, and our 
souls to swell with rapture. TTe may be contented, we 
may be satisfied and happy, if we so will it ; and that we 
are not so, is the fault of our own perverse dispositions and 
the teachings of our philosophy. It does not arise from 
any failure or willfulness on the part of our Maker. 

Man may be happy if he will ; 

I've said so often, and I think so still. 

The trouble is, we have set our mark too higli ; we can- 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 361 

not reach it, and because we cannot, we fall back dis- 
heartened and despondent. 

There is no royal road to happiness ; there is no regular 
and established road for it of any kind. What can be 
more foolish than to insist that every one shall adopt the 
standard and follow the path we have chosen ? We are 
too apt, for example, to complain of the old man, borne 
down as well by age as by the toils of life, that he should 
still insist upon his privilege of labor. And yet this is his 
way of enjoying himself. He was brought up to a life of 
activity, and he would now be miserable without it. As 
a general thing, even old people know their own wants a 
great deal better than their younger representatives do. 
The child has as good a right to insist that we should 
amuse ourselves with toy drums and little flags, as we 
have to insist upon its reading Shakespeare for diver- 
sion. The soldier wrapped in his simple blanket, on 
the bare earth, enjoys sweeter sleep than the tender 
nursling on his 'downy couch. Some men enjoy noth- 
ing so much as quiet and repose ; others are equally 
charmed with the bustle of life ; some like gayety and 
mirth, others solitude and reflection. The monk who, by 
way of penance, endures the most fearful tortures, really 
enjoys his sufferings. Such men do not feel as we do. 
11 What common gladiator," says Cicero, " ever so much as 
gave a groan, or so much as changed his countenance ? 
Which of them, when he was down and commanded to re- 
ceive the stroke, ever shrunk in his neck ? " 

It is one of the most absurd things in the world to 
measure all happiness by one fixed standard. What will 
satisfy one, will not of necessity satisfy another. " How 
much money," said Napoleon, to a poor, poverty-stricken 
and troubled woman in Milan, " how much money do you 
want to make yon perfectly happy ?" " Ah, sir," she re- 
plied, " a great deal I should want." " But how much ?" 
continued he. " Oh, sir, I should want as much as eighty 
dollars ; but what prospect is there of one having eighty 
dollars?" " You shall have it," said Napoleon, as with 



362 PEACTICAL LIFE AND 

his occasional nobleness, he gave her that and five hun- 
dred dollars more. Observe how little will satisfy some t 
" But Napoleon himself," says Desaix, " has gained every- 
thing, and yet is unhappy 9" It was Aristotle's opinion that 
happiness consisted in the most perfect exercise of the 
understanding, and the practice of virtue. But Thales- 
said, " True happiness consists in enjoying perfect health 
and a moderate fortune, and in spending life free from ef- 
feminacy and ignorance." 

The first, and most essential, element in the promotion of 
happiness, is contentment. Indeed, to be contented is to 
be happy, and of course whatever renders us contented, 
renders us happy. We would go even so far as to call 
contentment a virtue, and discontent a vice. To be con- 
tented, is simply to be satisfied with our lot, to be pleased 
with the way God has made us, and with the blessings he 
has given us. This does not imply either stupidity or in- 
dolence ; we may strive to better our lot, and whether we 
fail or succeed, still may be satisfied. 

A contented man is no slanderer ; he is not envious ; he 
is not ambitious, certainly not in the offensive sense of the 
term ; he is not consumed by avarice, neither is he the 
officious intermeddler, troubling himself more with the 
affairs of his neighbors than with his own. Socrates calls- 
contentment nature's wealth, believing a man rich who has 
all that he wishes. And how easy it is to make ourselves- 
contented ! We have only to consider how many others, 
in like circumstances are worse off than ourselves, and 
how very fortunate we are that matters are not really 
worse with us than we find them. When we lose a party 
we may be thankful that it is not the whole, and when we 
lose the whole, thankful again that we have nothing more 
to care for. 

So, then, to be happy, we must first of all seek for that 
philosophy, and have ourselves imbued with those senti- 
ments which serve to render us contented ; we must found 
our hopes upon those principles which give us confidence 
in the wisdom and goodness, nay, in the justice, of Grod. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 363 

And that men do not feel and recognize the truth of this 
position, is simply because they do not reason aright, or 
do not reason at all. AVe do not see in God that relentless 
despot, that terrible and unapproachable being, which 
some who have gone before us, as well as others of the 
present day, would lead us to believe him to be. We see 
in God only an all -wise and merciful father, an over-ruling, 
but, at the same time, a kind Providence. He that views 
Him otherwise, has studied the works of his Creator to 
but little purpose, or perhaps has not studied them at all. 
We do not believe for one moment that God so made this 
world that man must be miserable. Men may know, if 
they will reason and reflect, that if they are not happy, it 
is simply because of their own errors, and not from any 
design on the part of the Creator, or from any defect in 
arranging the affairs of the world. We do not believe 
even that God punishes us for the violation of his laws, in 
the sense commonly understood. Those punishments, as 
we term them, even our worst scourges, devastating wars, 
insatiable pestilence, terrible tempests, are known by scien- 
tific and thinking men to be real safety-valves, in fact, 
the bare and simple condition on which the race may con- 
tinue to exist. If fire burns us, and the frost bites, it is 
not that we may suffer, but that by being made sensible 
of our condition, we may escape the dangers with which 
we are threatened. If we suffer a little, it is only that we 
may escape a greater affliction. These punishments, as we 
call them, are God's monitors, his warning voice, the 
strongest evidence, indeed, of God's tenderness and affec- 
tion. 

What a pitiable picture do men make of their Creator, 
as they fancy Him bestowing this blessing on one, and 
placing that burden upon another ! What a wretched 
tribute to the graciousness of that being who is so far above 
the petty weaknesses and discreditable shortcomings of 
man ! There is nothing so pernicious in its effects, as that 
habit of life which leads us to look upon our neighbors, or 
our acquaintances, as blessed so much more than ourselves 



364 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

with the good gifts of Providence, and to consider our 
present life so inferior to what it was in the past, or what 
we had expected it would be in the future. There is 
scarcely one person about us who is esteemed wiser, or 
richer, or handsomer, or happier than ourselves, that does 
not cause us to repine at our own lot, while in our hearts 
is found that rancorous envy which renders life at the 
same time despicable and intolerable. How highly we 
rate the happiness of such railroad kings as Cornelius 
Yanderbilt, such merchant princes, as A. T. Stewart, or 
such millionaires as John Jacob AstOr, those men who, 
while living, were celebrated the world over for the maer- 
nitude of their possessions. But we know nothing of their 
sorrows, nothing of their anxieties, nothing of the afflic- 
tions which embittered their lives. How wof ully deceived 
are they who believe that these men were happy ! Why, 
the poor German laborer who toils all day on the railroad 
at a dollar and a half a day, and goes home at night to 
meet his happy children at the outer gate, this poor tired 
laborer, as he sits down to his plain, yet sweet repast, and 
retires to rest without a single fear to annoy or a care to 
disturb him, is infinitely the happier man. 

When we obtain riches, we shall soon see how little 
wealth can do towards satisfying our wants. Eiches will 
never buy love, nor friends, — certainly not true friends. 
Eiches will never buy fame nor honor, save that which is 
undeserved ; and neither will it buy glory, save that which 
is neither flattering to our pride nor consistent with honor. 
We observe, further, that riches do not fortify us against 
misery and misfortune, but render us more liable to ills 
than we would be without them. 

But is it the position of honor and power that furnishes 
us with this balm of happiness ? The most powerful and 
most honorable man in this country is the President, but 
he is very far from being the happiest. He holds an ex- 
traordinary rank, and he has showered upon him the most 
flattering tokens of regard ; but a poor, miserable return 
this is for such tortures as he endures ! Such anxietv, so 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 365 

much of trouble and concern, such constant care, so many 
sleepless nights, so many dark and dreadful days, so much 
of scandal and so little truth, so much of time for the pub- 
lic, and so little for himself — what a poor, miserable return 
for all these, we repeat ! Ah, how much would any Presi- 
dent give for one hour of that quiet rest at his own fireside 
which all of us may enjoy, one hour to himself, one hour 
of sweet repose, one hour removed from the pressure and 
tumult of an insatiable public. The Presidency of the 
United States is a high and glorious office, but it killed 
Harrison and Polk and Taylor, and, in another sense, our 
lamented Lincoln and Grarfield. We envy kings and 
queens. So much power and glory and happiness, we are 
wont to imagine! Yes, but how loosely their heads are 
placed upon their shoulders, and how fitful and irregular 
are the pulsations of their hearts ! So much power, and 
yet. such chilling fear — how strangely are these things 
blended together ! So much show and so little truth, so 
much homage and so little love, so man}' flatterers and so 
few friends ! Who would envy others for the happiness 

which power and place may give ? 

• . •. 

Nor does the possession of exquisite beaut}?- deserve any 

more of our concern or envy. We have observed that 
those to whom nature has given exceeding beauty, gener- 
ally receive little besides. It is a gift that, like other 
precious things, may be lost or destroyed, and the danger 
of losino- it is the source of constant fear and anxietv. 
And the secret pangs that continually disturb their rest, 
the number of their rivals, the many offences, real and 
imaginary, which they must endure, their trouble about 
actual defects or fancied imperfections, who shall estimate 
their number or influence ? 

Take the persons who always appear to us so cheerful, 
so gay, and, to our erring conception, so happy. Follow 
them to their homes, their retreats, the privacy of their 
own thoughts, and what a different picture you will find 
presented to your view. All persons have their wrongs to 
suffer, their troubles to encounter, and these cases we 



366 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

shall certainly find no exception to the rule. It is often 
these very gay persons who take refuge in self -destruction, 
and who flee from the tortures of their own thoughts, as 
others would from death itself. . "A thousand miseries," 
we read, " make silent and invisible inroads on mankind ; 
and the heart feels innumerable throbs which never break 
into complaint." 

The principle of compensation is always active in this 
life. If a man have treasures of any kind, he has so much 
to care for, and so much that he may lose. If a man 
would enjoy the comforts of a real home, he must have a 
wife and children ; but if he has them, they must be pro- 
vided for and protected. He that is without these respon- 
sibilities, may go where he pleases, and come when he 
chooses ; he may have his mind at ease, and a heart with- 
out care; but with all this, what a cold and desolate 
world without them, how little else there is that can sat- 
isfy the natural yearnings of the heart, the desire for true 
love and real friendship ! To parents, children are the 
most precious gifts of Providence, and yet, what uncertain 
property we find them ! How gently, how unconsciously 
they often sink out of our sight, and are lost forever, — lost 
when we had just learned to prize them, lost when we had 
come to consider them most certainly ours, and most last- 
ing — lost when our hopes were brightest, and our fears 
were dispelled ! And if they live, how uncertain is their 
future, how absolutely beyond our control is the his- 
tory they may have, and the destiny they may meet ; how 
open alike to them is the path of glory and the path of 
shame ! 

Let the idea be forever banished from our minds, that 
anything can come to our inheritance without bringing 
with it some, and perhaps great, disadvantages. Why, 
even the gifts which we receive are debts which we owe 
for, obligations which we must either cancel or remember. 

Beggars have their ranks and their orders, and even in 
this limited,, sphere, find plenty of room for the play of 
ambition. Many of them would not change their place 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 367 

for that of a king. A strange hermit, in Chicago, who 
slept with his dogs, with no clothing, even in the coldest 
season, but his rags, could by no means be induced to 
sleep in a house. Such is the effect of custom and the 
habits of a long life, that the hardy mountaineer thinks 
no home so happy as that of his cold bleak hills. Many 
of you have no doubt heard of the white woman, who 
when yet a little girl was stolen, with her brother, and 
carried away a captive by the Indians. Many, many years 
after, she Avas found in her far-off Indian home, and recog- 
nized by her brother. Yet such was the power of habit 
and associations, she could by no possible means be in- 
duced to abandon her old home, nor even to visit the land 
of her nativity. Pollok says : True happiness has no 
localities. 

No tones provincial, no peculiar garb ; 

Where duty went she went, with Justice went, 

And went with meekness, charity and love. 

" Every class of the human race," says Dr. Johnson, 
" has desires, fears and conversation, vexations and merri- 
ment peculiar to itself ; cares which another cannot feel ; 
pleasures which he cannot partake, and modes of express- 
ing every sensation which he cannot understand. That 
frolic which shakes one man with laughter, will convulse 
another with indignation ; the stream of jocularity which 
in one place obtains treats and patronage, would in an- 
other be heard with indifference, and in a third with ab- 
horrence." 

Misguided men, and indeed a large share of the human 
race might be included in this class, can conceive of no 
true happiness, except in that state where there is an ab- 
sence of toil. The happy time which they unceasingly 
hope for, and which they confidently believe they will yet 
see, is the time when they shall be compelled to labor no 
longer. There is certainly something slavish about the 
necessity for toil ; but God has so made us, in wisdom as 
well as goodness, that we are nothing less than needy and 
dependent creatures, and it is simply idle and vain for us 



368 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

to be ashamed to confess the fact. The bread we eat and 
the breath we draw come to us by the grace of that Being 
who gives all things, and can take them away. Our very 
existence is simply lent to us, and we know not how soon 
it may be recalled. Let us, then, remember these facts, 
and we shall have less pride and ambition, and more con- 
tentment and happiness. 

It is one of the unalterable laws of nature, that if we 
would enjoy life, we must be busy, be active, be doing, 
and never suffer ourselves to become indolent and stupid. 
The health of both body and mind depends upon the sole 
condition of exercise. He that does not know the fatigues 
of labor, can never enjoy rest. It is only when we earn 
our food, that we eat it with a relish. " He who will not 
give himself leisure to be thirsty," says Montaigne, " can 
never find the true pleasure of drinking." It is labor and 
exertion alone that give things their value ; things take 
their price from the cost of their production. "What comes 
to us without work, is but of little value. Material is 
cheap, but the article is dear. Raw silk and raw cotton 
are not in themselves costly, but cotton and silk fabrics 
are expensive. Coal in the mine may be worth but a few 
cents ; when delivered at our homes, it may be worth as 
many dollars. If gold were not hidden in the rock, or 
concealed in the earth, if it were as common as iron, and 
as plenty as dust, it would never exceed these things in 
value. If it were no trouble to excel, excellence itself 
would be valueless. 



FEVERS. 



Men are liable to violent attacks of fevers, without, how- 
ever, becoming alarmingly ill by means of them. When 
men are in this feverish state, the mind, as is always the 
case in fevers, seems to be disordered. They see things 
very strangely ; they have unwonted thoughts, distorted 
views, strange ideas ; they are really not themselves any 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 369 

more, and it is wonderful how completely transformed 
they have become. 

We are all liable to these fevers, and must have seen 
others laboring' under their influence. Thus, we get a 
fever to go West, or enter into trade ; we get a fever to 
speculate in bonds, or invest in real estate ; we get a fever 
of patriotism, from some unusual or fortuitous circum- 
stance, or a fever of charity, or of kindness, or mercy, or 
love. We get a fever for a new house, or a new church, 
or a new seminary, or some other new thing that has come 
into our mind. 

But these fevers do not last long, and when men once 
wake up from the reverie, they wonder what they have been 
about, and how they could ever have come to such strange 
conclusions, or have formed such absurd resolutions. Our 
fatal error in dealing with men, in these cases, is to con- 
sider the condition permanent, and the disease settled and 
chronic. The time to strike is while the iron is hot, and 
when it receives its impression easily. Men may become 
so heated with enthusiasm as to be willing to give away 
half of what they are worth — even the most parsimonious 
would do this. So the Russian nobles, when the army of 
Xapoleon was pressing into the heart of their country, 
and everything seemed to be lost, had their feelings so ex- 
cited, and their heart so inflamed with rage and resent- 
ment, that they contributed, some of them did, two- thirds 
of their fortune to support the cause of Alexander and 
Russia. 



SYMPATHY 



That a man may be a true man, he must have feeling ; 
he must have a heart filled with affection and sympathy. 
Without these things, he is an animal, but by no means a 
man. The true man perceives that he lives in the life of 
his fellow creatures ; that he has an interest in the pros- 
perity of all; that as society advances, he advances with 



370 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

it ; that lie can go no faster than the world goes, and that 
for certain benefits which he has received from society, he 
has certain obligations which he must observe in return. 
But the more selfish animal has no thought of any existence, 
save that of its own individual self ; and it is impossible 
for it to rise to the grand idea that all are parts and devel - 
opements of the same great whole. Behold in this the 
vast chasm that separates reasoning and reflecting man 
from the unthinking an 4 heartless animal. 

Persons who have no hearts, or who, possessing hearts, 
do not use them, have no emotions, no sympathies, no 
feelings ; they merely live by what they gather unto them- 
selves and consume — they simply vegetate. Their idea of 
beaut}' is mean. Of the sublime, they know little or 
nothing; their perceptions are generally imperfect, and 
their ideas of nature are feeble or confused ; indeed, they 
are not men in the sense properly understood. 

All sympathy and benevolence, all pure and manly 
feeling comes from an enlarged idea of the plans of nature, 
and from a true conception of the character and relations 
of man. Those who fail to comprehend these plans are the 
narrow-minded and feelingiess Greatures whom we meet 
upon every side, and who go up and down in the world, 
masquerading in the borrowed livery of those who were 
made in the image of Grod. Charles Lamb once said of 
Sou they, stutteringly : "He was m-niade for a m-m- 
monk, but somehow or other, the c-cowl didn't fit." So 
these creatures doubtless were intended for men, but in 
some wa}', there was a mistake in the measure, and a con- 
sequent failure in the make-up. 



APPKECIATIOK 



We never appreciate and value what we read, unless it 
be something that we have thought of or understood be- 
fore. We read what we do not understand, what we 
know nothing about, and care nothing for; how could 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 371 

we be expected to receive and appreciate it? Is it possi- 
ble for us to be interested in that of which we have no 
knowledge ? No, we seek more light on that upon which 
we had some light before. The knowledge we had was 
like a plant, which we desired to have develop, expand 
and grow. Search well your own thoughts and feelings, 
and you will see just what things please you, and why 
they do so. Let a man assert what you had inwardly, 
though perhaps hesitatingly, affirmed before, and you in- 
stantly find yourself stirred with delight. But let him 
declare what you cannot conceive or comprehend, and of 
course it falls upon you cold and powerless. Thus, we 
read German metaphysics ; we indeed know the words, 
but thev have no meaninsf for us. We have never had 
such ideas ourselves, and we cannot embrace things which 
to us are foreign and incomprehensible. 

It is a simple absurdity to ask people to love and adopt 
what they do not understand and cannot appreciate. It 
is one of the most unreasonable things in the world to 
complain of people for liking books which are filled sim- 
ply with common thoughts. These they can bring home to 
themselves : but our own pet theories are strange and 
monstrous to them, and it is no wonder that we find them 
discarded. They do not know anything about these 
theories, and the}* do not wish to know anything about 
them. We must bide our time, and let people grow. By 
and by, they will themselves have the very ideas which 
we now seek to force upon them, and then they will pur- 
sue *us, as we now pursue them. People never can bring 
themselves up to our standard — that were impossible. 
Men never will understand us, unless we use their lan- 
guage, and follow up their line of thought. " Cousin 
Waller," said Oliver Cromwell, " I must talk to these men 
in their own way," and so he loaded them with a liberal 
supply of cant. This man knew, if any one ever did, how 
to deal with men. If you wo aid lead men, or move them, 
or even interest them, you must "talk to them in their 
own way." 



372 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

THE FORTUNE, FOIBLES, AND FRAILTIES 
OF NOTED MEN 

Biography is always instructive, and particularly so the 
biography of eminent men. Biography tells how men 
have lived, what they have done, what they have accom- 
plished, and by what means ; it also shows where men 
have failed, and the reason why ; biography tells ns of 
the nature of the^ heart, and the mystery of its workings; 
it gives us the range of human endurance, the capacity of 
the mind, its fertility in resources and wonderful expe- 
dients. We all start from the- same port, and are bound 
for the same harbor. Those who have gone before us, 
furnish much for our instruction. They can tell us where 
to find breakers, and where to look for shoals and quick- 
sands. They can tell us of the storms they have en- 
countered, and of the shipwrecks and dangers they have 
escaped. 

But it is only an especial part of biography to which we 
propose to confine ourself in this article. We will limit 
our notices to the private lives of a few noted men, and we 
will see them as nature made them, inheriting, like men, 
their share of the weaknesses, vanities, vices and misfor- 
tunes of mankind. 

We may as well begin with Oliver Goldsmith. Every 
one has heard of him, and few there are who have not read 
his productions, his "Deserted Village, " his "Vicar of Wake- 
field," his "Natural History," his "Greece" and his "Rome." 
Who has ever written such sweet and beautiful English; who 
has charmed us so much, or enlightened us more? And 
yet what an awful tribute Providence demanded of him 
in return for such wonderful abilities ! Nature formed 
his body, in the first place, in a mould ill-shaped and for- 
bidding ; but the small-pox in his younger days added still 
more to the repulsiveness of his face and the ruin of the 
picture. If he was bald-headed and ill -looking, he was 
equally ill-acting and eccentric. • His whole life was one 
continued series of misfortunes, and it is easy enough to 



THE STUDY OF MAN. '373 

trace their origin. His own extravagance, his intolerable 
indolence, his excessive vanity, his perpetual blundering, 
and the uncurbed generosity of his true Irish heart, must 
answer for them. That he was always poor, was not be- 
cause he never received anything, but because he never 
saved anything. His uncle gave him fifty pounds to en- 
able him to study law, but he soon lost the whole in a 
gambling house, a place of resort not before nor afterwards 
unfrequented by him. 

He at one time came very near getting a desirable posi- 
tion, but his ridiculous fondness for a suit of scarlet all 
through, made him appear so ludicrous that he passed for 
a simpleton, instead of a sensible and reliable man. 

He wandered two years over Europe, with nothing in 
his pocket, and little in his head, save vain hopes of suc- 
cess and dreams of renown. He subsisted chiefly upon 
the hospitality of the peasantry, with whom Goldsmith 
with his flute was ever a welcome guest. He is one of 
those lamentable, yet numerous, instances of men who 
prefer starving with the pen to thriving by the hand. 
Poor, miserable being, even when a full grown man, he 
was mean enough, or wild enough, pressed by want as he 
was, to take the clothes secured by the kind interposition 
of a friend for a special purpose, and pawn them them for 
money. To such depths of degradation had he come, even 
a jail was not a terror to him, but a welcome retreat. "I 
have seen it,"' said he, "inevitable these three weeks, and 
request it as a favor — as a favor that may prevent some- 
thing more fatal. I have been some years struggling with 
a wretched being — with all that contempt and indigence 
brings with it — with all those strong passions which make 
contempt insupportable. What then has a jail that is 
formidable?" He was never free from debt, nor from his 
propensity to gamble. He hung loosely on society, with- 
out a wife or domestic tie. He died at the age of forty- 
five, £2,000 in debt. "Was ever poet so trusted before?" 
savs Dr. Johnson. Before he died, the number of his 



374 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

friends was reduced so low, that he could find but two to 
name in his will, his housekeeper and a hatter. 

Young, who wrote the " Night Thoughts," furnishes us 
with an illustration of the fact that a man may write good 
precepts, and still not be inclined to furnish good ex- 
amples. He was as much attracted and diverted by the 
shadows of earthly pleasures as man could be, but he 
never failed to deprecate all anxieties about earthly treas- 
ures in others. "All his life he was an indefatigable 
courtier." 

We could hardly think that the one who could write 
the immortal " Paradise Lost " would be heir to so many 
misfortunes and imperfections as fell to the lot of Milton. 
In his conduct he was arbitrary, and in his temper irasci- 
ble. Neither pain, poverty nor affection could subdue 
him. In his domestic relations he was severe, impatient 
and unreasonable. " He thought women," says Johnson, 
"made for obedience, and men for rebellion." His first 
wife *had been married to him but one month, when she 
left him in disgust. She stated that she was fond of com- 
pany and merriment, and did not relish his spare diet and 
hard study. Milton said he was willing to have her leave, 
for he wanted a wife that could talk He seemed anxious 
to get a divorce, and as the laws as they then existed did 
not reach his case, he made strenuous efforts to have them 
remodeled to his taste ; and his want of success in this en- 
deavor brought forth his anger in all its terrible excess. 
He thought it an outrageous condition of things that two 
persons with tempers so incompatible as his and that of 
his wife should not be divorced without ceremony. But 
like all strong spirits, he was calmed after a while. Ar- 
rangements were made by which, two years after their 
marriage, his wife came back to live with him again. She 
died in 1652, leaving three little girls. In 1656 he mar- 
ried another, one more to his liking ; but she lived only 
fifteen months, and he was left bereaved and disconsolate 
again. After eight years he married for a third time — an 
arrangement made for convenience. His daughters had 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 875 

treated him with great unkindness and neglect ; and that 
blindness which had been growing upon him for years, at 
the age of forty-five, became complete and incurable. 
With his wife and his grown-up daughters in continual 
wrangling and turmoil, each one, as in the battle of the 
three ships, obstinately and vigorously fighting the rest, 
he at last found relief in death. Blind and poor as he 
was, oppressed by the rage and violence of party, he yet 
so far rose superior to all his enemies and his oppressors, 
as'to write, by dictation, his " Paradise Lost " and " Paradise 
Regained." Like many greater men than himself, he was 
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of superstition. He 
fancied that "his vein never happily flowed but from the 
autumnal equinox to the vernal," and counted for nothing 
what he produced the rest of the year. His income never 
large, was always made larger than his expenses. His 
library was sold before he died. He left his family £1,- 
500, very little of which, such was the rapacity of his last 
wife, ever came to his three daughters, the only children 
he ever had. In person he was below the middle size, 
but his body was strong and vigorous. In his youth he 
was said to have been unusually beautiful. 

Pope, who wrote the "Essay on Man," and much more 
poetry as good, was a very unfortunate man. Condemned 
to feebleness in his youth, he became so weak in after life 
that he had to be laced up and stayed, and even dressed 
and undressed by his friends. He was so small and short, 
that he had to be bolstered and propped up at the table. 
Xo one will be surprised to learn that he was petulant, 
sometimes unprincipled, and always troublesome. By a 
strange composition, he had the intellect of a genius, the 
spirit and soul of a termagant, and the body and deport- 
ment of a dwarf. Forever in conflict with disease, he 
sometimes rose above it so far as to forget his afflictions. 
He was an intolerable glutton. He had all the small 
traits of a little and deformed man. He was secretive, 
cautious, and fond of trickery. Somebody has said he 
could not even drink tea without a stratagem. His ex- 



376 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

treme frugality led him far into the rigors of parsimony. 
To want money, seemed to him to be equivalent to want- 
ing all things. When tired of his guests, or inclined to 
sleep, he simply " nodded in company ; " at least ortce he 
was known to "nod" at the table, even when the Prince 
of Wales was discoursing on poetry. He was an invete- 
rate sleeper, and was never married. 

Shakespeare was a handsome and well-made man. As a 
mark of his appreciation of his wife, he left her, when he 
died, the second best bed in the house, and some of the 
furniture. In his early life, he was a theatrical performer 
(a strolling player at that), and he delighted to wait as a ser- 
vant at the door, and help the rich dismount, opening and 

closing the doors of their carriages. He left several chil- 
es o 

dren, but his descendants all ran out in the third genera- 
tion. 

Sheridan, once one of England's most honored men, 
turned out to be in the end a drunken spendthrift. He 
died ruined in reputation, and destitute of property. His 
creditors were so ravenous that they pressed hard upon 
his death-becl, to snatch, if possible, even his last breath. 
So abandoned and destitute had Sheridan become in his 
last vears, he sold his furniture and his books, and even 
his wife's pictures. Such was the humiliating end of a 
great man. 

Pollok, who wrote the " Course of Time," died of con- 
sumption before the age of thirty years. 

Burns, the sweet Scottish poet, with a ruined constitu- 
tion, died at the age of thirty-seven, of drunkenness and 
disappointment, poor and wretched indeed. 

David Mallet was the poet who praised Pope while he 
lived, and slandered him after he died. 

Boswell, who wrote the life of Johnson, was a mean, low, 
fawning fellow ; and vet he left behind him one of the 
best biographies extant. 

Smollett was one whose life was, from the beginning to 
the end of his days, a continued struggle for existence. 
Visionary, quarrelsome, irritable, inconsistent and ungrate- 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 377 

ful, he perhaps well deserved from the world the very 
treatment which he received. He died in a foreign land. 

Sterne, the Irish clergyman, was not one of whose life 
the world may feel proud, though she may boast of his 
writings. He was one of nature's spoiled children. If 
he was full of tenderness, he was also steeped in vice. He 
died where he wished to die, and where he had spent most 
of his time while he lived, at an inn — died there, with none 
to console or attend him but a hired nurse. 

Dryden was miserably poor. Like so many literary men, 
especially poets, he was unhappy in his domestic relations. 
He expressed the wish to be a book, so that his wife might 
enjoy more of his society. "Be an almanac, then, my 
dear." said she, "that I may change you at least once a 
year." It is nothing strange that, with such an expe- 
rience, he should dislike matrimony. He was apt to get 
into quarrels and difficulties, even outside of his family. 
His superstition made him a great believer in stars and 
planets, and similar moonshine. Old and feeble, neglected 
and forsaken, he ended his days in one of the old garrets 
of London. 

Coleridge was a slave to opium. During a large share 
of his life, he was poor and dependent. Having resolved 
to enlist as a soldier, he presented himself for examina- 
tion. "What is your name?" inquired the examining 
officer. " Comberbach," was the answer (a name he had 
assumed). "What do you come here for, sir?" "Sir, 
said Coleridge, " for what most persons come here, for — 
to be made a soldier." "Do you think," said the general, 
" that you can run a Frenchman through the body ?" " I 
don't know." replied C, " as I have never tried, but 1*11 
let a Frenchman run me through the bod}', before I'll run 
away." " That will do," continued the officer, and he was 
made a dragoon. But though he made an elegant and 
distinguished writer in after life, he certainly made a very 
poor dragoon, never passing, to take his word for it, out 
of the limits of -the awkward squad. He was eventually 
tracer 1 out, and after four or five months' service, he was 



378 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

released by the influence of friends. He was full of 
dreams and visions, and as indolent as his nature and 
opium could make him. He was weak enough to aban- 
don Wordsworth's sister, to whom he was probably en- 
gaged, and many Southey's wife's sister, because Southey 
told him to do so. The results were sad on both sides. 
Miss W~.. the poet's sister, became insane, and C. himself 
lived miserable all his days. 

Southey was a paralytic for three years before his death. 
He burned more of his writings from twenty to thirty than 
most men write. He was very unfortunate in his family 
relations. The loss of his children, and the subsequent 
insanity of his wife, were great afflictions to him. He mar- 
ried for his second wife an authoress, and like so many 
other literary women, she proved a troublesome and dis- 
agreeable wife, quarreling with Southey and his children 
till he became hopelessly insane. 

Of Shelley it has been aptly and truly said that his life 
was " a warfare on earth." He was separated from his 
wif e. and she eventually drowned herself. On the charge 
of immorality and other things, he was deprived of the so- 
ciety and the care of his children, by a decree of the 
court His first wife was his cousin, with whom he 
eloped, and whom he married greatly against the will of 
his family. His second wife was an authoress, with whom 
he was traveling on the continent when the news of the 
tragic death of his first wife reached him. He was 
drowned in a storm on the Gulf of Spezzia ( near Italy, 
whither he had gone to settle). At his own request his 
body, which had been recovered, was burned. 

The very sad and miserable career of Lord Byron is 
perhaps familiar to you all. His many and disgraceful 
amours, his drunken frolics, his wandering and wretched 
life, his attachment for Miss Chaworth. and his disappoint- 
ment in not gaining her hand, his subsequent marriage to 
another excellent and sensible woman, and her subsequent 
abandonment of him after a brief honeymoon of a year, 
his unfortunate foot, and the anguish of mind it caused 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 379 

him. his little girl and his attachment for her. his enlist- 
ment in the cause and defence of Greece, and his subse- 
quent death in that country, are all well known and familiar 
facts in the history of that brilliant but unhappy man. 
His last words were: u My wife, my child, my sister; you 
know all. you must say all." He was an erring child, but 
was not vicious at heart : if he had terrible faults on the 
one hand, he had great redeeming virtues on the other. 

Thomas Hobbes. who has left behind him a great name 
in letters, seems to have had a soul which was rather weak 
in some points. He was much concerned about his per- 
sonal safety, and did not like to sleep in strange places or 
in empty houses. 

Addison was awkward and shy. Chesterfield said he 
was tjie most awkward man he ever knew. But he had 
upon the whole a somewhat brighter history than some of 
those who lived in his time. Still, the haughty treatment 
by his wife, the Countess of Warwick, whose hand he had 
obtained with great difficulty, often drove him to the 
tavern, where it is said he drank too long and too deep. 
\Vhen he saw that his end had come, he sent for Lord 
Warwick, saying: "I have sent for you that you may 
see how a Christian can die." He was an ill-natured man, 
and very jealous of his rivals. 

Johnson tells us that "the heroes of literary as well as 
civil history have been very often no less remarkable for 
what thev have suffered, than for what they have achieved : 
and volumes have been written only to enumerate the 
miseries of the learned, and relate their unhappy lives and 
unhappy deaths." But Hume must be taken as one of 
the few exceptions to the fate of England's early literary 
men. He seems to have been the happiest of all men : 
not because he never met with disappointments, not be- 
cause he was never treated with severity or injustice, not 
because he might not have had wrongs to redress or 
enemies to punish, but simply because he was naturally of 
an easy and amiable disposition, and a philosopher that 



380 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

knew how to live. Added to this, his means were ample, 
and he never suffered from want. 

England never had a hero or statesman that she would 
be willing to rank as the equal of Sam Johnson. The one 
who produced the " Rambler " and prepared the Great Eng- 
lish Dictionary has no superior as an author, and in some 
departments of literature, has no rival. Though he scarcely 
ever traveled beyond the limits of his own city, though he 
knew but little of business, and had but few opportunities 
of testing the human heart, he nevertheless found means, 
either by generalizing from his own limited experience, or 
being guided by the inspirations of his genius, to pene- 
trate deeper into the secret depths of the human soul, than 
any man that ever lived. There is in his most trivial 
compositions something stupendous, even sublime. In 
his writings there is no German mysticism, with its intri- 
cate labyrinths and dismal recesses. He serves us with 
plain truth and sound sense, wrought into shapes which 
are at the same time both dignified and majestic. 

Yet, how little there is in all the writings of this great 
man that can give us an insight into his character and 
habits ; how little there is to tell us how he looked, and 
how he acted. Who would think from the writings that 
have been left to us, that Sam Johnson, with his elephan - 
tine body and spindle legs, was one of the homeliest 
and forbidding looking beings the Lord ever created? 
To know him rightly, we must seek him out in his dark 
and dreary garret in Inner Temple lane ; we must converse 
with him, see him move and hear him talk ; we must ob- 
serve his furniture, and meet his companions, his strange 
cat, and Mrs. Williams, his blind old housekeeper. We 
must read his letters and examine his diary. We must 
study carefully the sketches which have been left of his 
character and habits by his contemporaries. 

Lord Chesterfield, speaking of him, says : " He is a man 
whose moral character, deep learning, and superior parts, 
I acknowledge, admire and respect ; but whom it is so im- 
possible for me to love, that I am almost in a fever when 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 381 

I am in his company. His figure (without being de- 
formed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule the common 
structure of the human body. His legs a.nd arms are 
never in the position which, according to the situation of 
his body, they ought to be in, but are constantly em- 
ployed in committing acts of hostility upon the graces. 
He throws anywhere but down his throat whatever he 
means to drink ; and mangles what he means to 
carve.' 1 

He at first started to keep school, but proud and pro- 
digious as he was, you will not be surprised to learn that 
he did not succeed. "Disgusted by the pride of his pat- 
ron," says his biographer, " he left the place in discontent, 
and ever after spoke of it with abhorrence. Then he tried 
writing, but with no great success. Again, we hear of 
him as the founder of a seminary ; but the most he could 
muster was seven or eight pupils, and of course the enter- 
prise failed. We next hear of him as an adventurer in 
London, having left his wife, a widow that he had married 
not long before for her money, and whose money he had 
now well nigh succeeded in spending. In his company 
came to London one of his pupils, David Grarrick, who 
was soon to become one of the brightest stars on the Eng- 
lish stage. Grarrick soon rose to fame, but Johnson was 
left to drag along a slow life of poverty and distress, writ- 
ing much, and receiving little. He was too forbidding in 
his appearance to be received with much favor by any 
body ; he was too indolent and too visionary, too fond oi 
taverns and tavern accompaniments, ever to succeed, to 
any considerable extent, in any enterprise. He had, when 
his wrath was hot, a nature as fierce as a Kocky Mountain 
bear. He could brook no opposition: he would rather 
starve than submit ; and self-government did not appear 
in his liturgy. In a fit of rage, he once seized a folio vol- 
ume and knocked his bookseller down, as a sort of pun- 
ishment for giving him the lie. A morbid melancholy, 
bordering on insanity, to which he was continually tend- 
ing, rave cast and character to his whole life. Lono; solil- 



382 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

oquies in tke open fields, and dreams out loud, entered 
largely in the daily routine of his performances. 

We may think it strange that such a man would yield 
to the operations of Cupid, or be affected by the arrows 
which the winged boy so often sends forth from his well- 
bent bow. It is true, nevertheless, that he did love his 
wife (whether she loved him or not, we do not know); it is 
true, so we are assured, he could pour from his heart words 
as soft, as tender, and as melancholy, as the tones of the 
turtle dove ; he could be as gallant as any noble knight ; 
he could put himself some way in attitudes most apt to in- 
dicate the heartiness of his love ; yet, it was all done in a 
manner so ludicrous, that it greatly excited the merri- 
ment of his friend Grarrick, who seems to have delighted 
to dwell upon the weaknesses and infelicities of the inimi- 
table Johnson. We have already noticed that after all, 
he left his dear wife and started on a runaway excursion 
to London ; but he soon repented, sent for her, and lived 
with her till the time of her death. 

We find recorded as an instance of his rudeness, that 
sitting at table once, in company with a celebrated lady, 
Mrs. R, among others,, in the midst of the dinner he seized 
her hand, held it close to his eye, wondering at its delicacy 
and whiteness, till the lady asked with an impatient smile, 
" Will he give it back to me, when he has done with it ?" 

George Grarrick calls him "a tremendous companion." 
His simplicity we learn from his diary. A few days after 
the death of his wife, poor dear Tetty, we find this solil- 
oquy recorded : " April 22, 1769. Thought on Tetty, 
poor dear Tetty, with my eyes full. . Went to church. 
After sermon, I recommended Tetty in a prayer by herself, 
and my father, mother, brother and Bathurst in another." 
He was willing to pray for his father's family, but he did 
not care to dwell on their history. " There is little pleas-" 
ure," said he in this connection, " in relating the anecdotes 
of beggars." 

" Madame," said he to a lady once, " I must tell you for 
your comfort, you have escaped much better than a cer- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 383 

tain lady did a while ago, upon whose patience I in- 
truded greatly more than I have done on yours : but the 
lady asked me to tea for no other purpose than to make 
a zany of me. and set me gabbling to a parcel of people I 
knew nothing of : no, madam. I had my revenge of her ; 
for I swallowed live and twenty cups of the tea, and did 
not treat her with as many words." 

We get a little idea of some of his private history by 
the opening lines of one of his letters : " Sir. I am obliged 
to entreat your assistance. I am under arrest for five 
pounds eighteen shillings." It is one of the luckiest facts 
in his history that he left no children. 

Hugh Miller, who has left behind him some of the most 
beautiful and interesting productions in the English lan- 
guage, such as "Footprints of the Creator," "Old Eed 
Sandstone." "Testimony of the Eocks," died from the ef- 
ects of a pistol shot in his brain, by his own hand. He had 
become so maddened by intense mental exertion and nerv- 
ous excitement, that he killed himself, as he said, to escape 
the torments of his own brain. Cowper also made an 
earnest attempt to hang himself : and when brought to 
life, insisted he' had been in hell. 

Xelson. the greatest hero of British naval history, was 
noted, like Wellington and military men in general, for 
his intolerable conceit and his vanity. He left no children 
that were legitimate, but several that were not. He and 
his wife separated. He was noted for his indomitable 
spirit and his courage. He first lost. an eye in battle, then 
an arm. and at last was killed in action. His last words 
were those of a true Englishman : " Thank (rod. I have 
done my duty." 

Sir Walter Scott has certainly left enough behind to 
immortalize his name forever. He was an excellent speci- 
men of a Scottish gentleman, and, like most of his nation, he 
was fond of dogs and horses. In person, he was tall and 
strong. He was generous and hospitable : he liked to have 
good tables and many friends to sit down with him. He 
carried his hospitality so far. and. besides, so neglected to 



384 PRACTICAL LIFE ASD 

attend to his pecuniary interests, that in the end he be- 
came bankrupt. He resolved, strange as it may seem, yet 
creditable as it was, that his creditors should in time all be 
paid. Though fifty-five years old, and owing $600,000, 
he took up his pen with all the vigor of youth, determined 
if possible to retrieve his lost fortunes. It was under 
these circumstances, in the decline of life, that he brought 
out some of his most excellent works. We need not be 
told that he succeeded in his undertaking, that he paid up 
his debts to the last dollar, that his home was again the 
abode of peace, prosperity and plenty, and that he thus 
achieved one of the most glorious victories known in the 
history of literary men. 

Jeremy Bentham, that renowned British author, like so 
many of his brethren of the pen, spent the most of his 
time in a dismal garret, chilled and starved by gaunt pen- 
ury. It is recorded of him that he was inordinately fond 
of cats. At least once he fell in love, was disappointed, 
and never married. 

Charles Dickens, whom you all know, separated from 
his wife after they had been married twenty years, and 
they had had several children. The cause alleged was 
one which we have so often heard before, that their tem- 
pers and temperaments did not agree. 

Charles Lamb was six weeks in the asylum. Strong 
drink found in him a most constant friend. 

Walpole, an eminent statesman, has been described as 
the most eccentric, the most artificial, the most fastidious, 
and the most capricious of men. Trifles alone, to him as 
to Wordsworth, were momentous things ; trifles only were 
thought worthy of serious concern. 

Curran, the Irish orator, was small and mean-looking, 
and so shabbily dressed at all times, that a guest at an inn 
once mistook him for the hostler. He ordered him to 
brush his clothes — which was done. 

Bacon would have been a remarkable man in any age. 
The depth of his intellect, and the extent of his under- 
standing, must strike even the most casual reader as some- 



THE STUDY OF MAX. 385 

thing little less than divine ; still, he lacked goodness of 
heart, he lacked that sublime spirit and that lofty manli- 
ness which should entitle him to be ranked with nature's 
noblemen. He stands forth before the world as a striking 
proof of the fact now well known, that a man may be very 
learned, very wise in the eyes of the world, and still not 
be very good, or even very great. 

Robespierre, terrible even in the Reign of Terror, was a 
small and feeble creature. He had a shrill voice, and, like 
Mirabeau. a hateful figure and repulsive look. Still, he 
had a power over masses that mortal men have seldom 
reached. 

Mirabeau. once the most powerful man in France, sug- 
gested to a lady who wished to see him, in order that she 
might not be disappointed in his looks, to figure to herself 
a tiger that had had the small-pox. 

Napoleon's manner in a drawing room was excessively 
awkward, but what troubled him more than anything else 
was the fact that nature made him in body a small man, 
instead of one of imposing apjDearance. 

Buffon's son was a fool, and some one called him the 
worst chapter of his father's "Natural History." 

Old Socrates was an ill-looking old fellow, though withal 
one of our wisest men. He married a miserable termagant 
of a woman, as he said, for the sake of the wholesome dis- 
cipline she could give him. He said he was always prone 
to knavery and vice, as his face truly indicated, but he 
had overcome his evil tendencies by effort and perse- 
verance. 

Goethe, the great German author, was a man of fine 
appearance. Particularly in his younger days, he belonged 
with a class that we of the present age are accustomed to 
denominate "fast." He was fond of dancing, and much 
inclined to love. He had many little engagements, which 
in the end were broken off for various reasons. Late in 
life he married one of his domestics, to avoid a still greater 
scandal. He died at the age of eighty-three, closing his 
days with the words "more light." 



386 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

One of Schiller's weaknesses was his inability to decide 
when he had drank wine enough for one day. He was 
tall and thin. He died exclaiming, "many things are 
growing plain and clear to me." 

Schleiermacher, the German divine and philosopher, 
was small and humpbacked. 

The German Kant, the greatest of modern philosophers, 
was a small man, only five feet high, and in body some- 
what deformed. He was a very great man. He was never 
forty miles from home. 

Demosthenes must be ranked among the first temper- 
ance men on record ; and he has given us some of our earli- 
est examples of self-government and strict discipline. He 
was a splendid orator, and an excellent man to fire others 
to combat, but he made a poor fighter himself, being in 
battle among the first to run away. He . died at the age 
of sixty-three, from the effects of poison which he had 
taken. He had been caught by his enemies in his retreat, 
and he saw there was no escape. 

Cicero died by the hands of an assassin. He was tall, 
but feeble ; rich, proud and intolerably vain. " As to 
Cicero," says Montaigne, "I am of the common opinion 
that, learning excepted, he had no great natural parts. 
He was a good citizen, of an affable nature, as fat, heavy 
men, such as he was, usually are ; but given to ease, and 
had a mighty share of vanity and ambition." His son, 
with whom he had taken the greatest pains in his edu- 
cation, proved to be, like sons of other great men, an 
absolute and mortifying failure. 

Pompey the Great died in Egypt, by the hand of Septi- 
mus, an assassin. His body was cast naked on the sea 
shore. He was married five times. His mind gave way 
under his misfortunes, and he yielded as ill became so 
great a man. 

Of Mozart, the great musician, we read that he fell des- 
perately in love with a Miss Weber, a celebrated actress, 
but his hand was refused on account of his inferior repu- 
tation. Urged by this incentive, he gave some of his 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 387 

most celebrated performances, and in the end succeeded 
in obtaining his long wished for prize. He died with his 
efforts as a musician ill requited, and poor indeed. 

Turning for the present to the literary men of our own 
country, we shall find that a large majority of them came 
from the higher walks of life. Nearly all of our authors 
of high rank were men who had been well educated, 
graduates generally, and having most of them plenty of 
means independent of any income from their literary pro- 
ductions. Many of them studied in Europe, and a still 
larger number traveled there. We need to name as com- 
ing under these observations, only the following : Emer- 
son, Bancroft, Motley, Holmes, Prescott, Bryant, Long- 
fellow, Noah Webster, Parker, Willis, Tayler Lewis, 
Eennimore Cooper, Everett, Beecher, Irving, and very 
•many others. Few eminent authors in this country have 
written for money only. Edgar Allen Poe is one of the 
very few unfortunate American writers whose vagabond 
life is to be at all compared with that of some British 
writers. Born to no inheritance, left an orphan when 
young, he was adopted and educated by a citizen of Rich- 
mond, John Allan. His first wife was his cousin, and as 
po(*r as himself. He was to be married a second time to 
a wealthy lady of Richmond, but shortly before the wed- 
ding, he went to Baltimore, fell in with old friends, got 
drunk, spent the night in the street, was taken up the 
next morning helpless and senseless, carried to the hos- 
pital, and there, in a delirium, he died. Such was the life 
and the end of the one who has left for us the inimitable 
" Raven," and many more strange, but striking and excel- 
lent productions. He was expelled from West Point for 
drunkenness, and compelled to leave the University of 
Virginia for the same cause. For a while, he served as a 
private in the United States army, from the service of 
which he deserted. For base and shameful ingratitude 
towards his benefactor, who had taken him as a son, he 
was cast off and disinherited. Of two prizes of one hun- 



388 PRACTICAL LIFE AND 

dred each, once offered for the best poem and best prose 
productions, lie obtained both. 

William H. Prescott, the historian, became blind in 
early life. The sight of one eye was destroyed while at 
college, by a crust of bread thrown into it, playfully, by 
a student. The other also, by inherent weakness and 
sympathy with the one lost, soon became almost useless. 
Still, he never became entirely blind. His works were 
written by himself, by means of a writing machine pre- 
pared expressly for the purpose. The copy hardly legi- 
ble, was immediately transcribed by one accustomed to his 
writing. As a man and a citizen, he was most worthy 
and excellent. One-tenth of his income was set apart for 
charity. 

"Washington Irving, the author which America delights 
most to honor, had a life which reflected the smoothness 
and loveliness of his own disposition. Perhaps no one 
ever stood so high and had so few enemies. As he was 
not carried away by ambitious projects, his days, particu- 
larly his latter ones, glided along in a smooth and gentle 
current. He had accumulated a handsome fortune, which, 
as he had no children, he delighted to use in making his 
relatives comfortable and happy. His house on the banks 
of the Hudson, on the very spot where he had laid *the 
plot of " Sleepy Hollow," was kept by his nieces, the 
daughters of his brother, who also lived with him. He 
was never married. In his youthful days, he was engaged 
to a Miss Hoffman, of New York. Her death made a 
wound in his heart which never healed. Her Bible, a 
well-worn copy, to him a precious relic, was on a table at 
his bedside when he died, at the age of seventy-six. He 
spent seventeen years in Europe at one time. He not 
only wrote the legend of " Sleepy Hollow," but he was 
extremely fond of sleeping himself ; so much so, that it 
was no uncommon thing for him to doze in company. He 
was passionately fond, all his life, of tales, and murder 
and ghost stories. He had a fine countenance and most 
agreeable manners. 



THE STUDY OF MAN. 389 

A few of the class of men now under consideration 
need a more special reference. Of these, we will first 
speak of John Kandolph. In personal appearance, he 
was perhaps one of the oddest looking pictures in the his- 
tory of humanity. He was long, lean and gaunt, and so 
thin that duelists found they might as well fire at the 
sharp edge of a slab, as to try to hit him. He boasted of 
his descent from Pocahontas, on his father's side. He 
was quarrelsome, overbearing, and was never known to 
live at peace with anybody. He traveled a short time in 
England, and was looked upon there as a curiosity. In 
the end, his life-long eccentricities passed into confirmed 
insanity ; so much so, that he traveled with a gun wher- 
ever he went. 

Patrick Henry, one of the greatest natural orators of 
this or any other age, was proverbially the laziest man in 
community. And as he was indolent, of course he was 
a sloven. Hunting and music were his favorite pastimes, 
in both of which he excelled. He started in trade and 
failed ; tried farming and could not earn his living ; tried 
mercantile life again, and again failed. Then he studied, 
or, we should say, went to practising law, for he never, 
studied much of anything. As he was an able advocate, 
and as juries are oftener led away by show of eloquence, 
than by strength of argument or law, he proved quite 
successful in the profession. In figure, he was tall, over 
six feet high, awkward, rough, coarse, raw-boned, spare, 
and stooping in his shoulders. 

Thomas Jefferson, who was in many respects a very 
great man, was also a very vindictive, conceited and re- 
lentless one. He was a violent partisan, and not noted 
for his piety. 

Henry Clay, as we have suggested before, did not in- 
herit, but earned his position. He is remarkable not only 
for his oratory and his talents, but the astonishing hold 
which he had on the affections of his countrymen, par- 
ticularly those of his own party. In his domestic affairs, 
he was sadlv afflicted. He had eleven children. Of 



390 PRACTICAL LIFE AXD 

these, six were daughters, and all of them died long be- 
fore the father. One of his sons became, by an accident 
in youth, a confirmed lunatic. The death of his favorite 
and younger son, Henry Clay, Jr., as a lieutenant-colonel 
in the Mexican war, caused him more grief than all the 
rest. He was a tender father, and always loved his home. 
His features were not regular, nor was his face particularly 
pleasing, but he had nevertheless a most bewitching and 
attractive way. Whatever he chose to do, was done with 
inimitable grace. 

"We see exemplified in this country, what we see in 
every other, that our great men very rarely leave sons be- 
hind them able to be their representatives, the reason for 
the rule being that such men generally marry inferior 
women. The case of the two Adamses is certainly a re- 
markable exception; it is almost the only instance. — 
There are several instances, however, where two or more 
brothers have risen to equal distinction. There are the 
Washburnes of this country, the two Humboldts and 
the two Grimms of Germany, and the Cuviers of France. 

Alexander had an able father, but he left no able son. 
A large share of such men leave no heirs at all, and of 
those who do leave them, the line speedily runs out. Of 
the great names of the earth, it must be remembered that 
such men as Leibnitz, Newton, Gibbon, Goldsmith, Cow- 
per, Hobbes, Hume, Pope, Michael Angelo, Bayle, Irving, 
and many others besides, never married at all. And of 
those who did marry, a large number left no issue ; for 
example, Sir Humphrey Davy, Addison, Johnson, Wash- 
ington, Madison, and, Ave think, Burke and Bacon. The 
list of those who had children, but whose line soon termi- 
nated, is a long one. Where are the representatives of 
Napoleon and Wellington? In our own country, laying- 
aside the case of the Adamses, who to-day are the dis- 
tinguished representatives of our presidents, and who of 
Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, Patrick Henry, Thomas 
Hart Benton, Daniel Webster, and Alexander Hamilton ? 



INDEX 



TITLE. . PAGE 

Acquaintances, ----.-- 247 

Adversity and Misfortune, - - - - - 217 
Advertising, - - - - - - -122 

Age. 227 

Aims of Life, - - 331 

Anticipation, - - - - - 296 

Anger, 298 

Appearances, ------- 281 

Appreciation, ------- 370 

Artifices, - - 316 

Attire, 197 

Authors, 127 

Avarice, - - - - . •- - - - 165 

Barbarities, etc., ------ 16 

Bargains, ------- 220 

Belief, - 211 

Beauty, 190 

Boldness, ------- 

Boys, - 113 

Brotherly Love, - - - - - - 194 

Caution, 248 

Candor, 38 

Conceit, etc., ------- 201 

Coincidences, - - - - - - 212 

Conscience, ------- 40 

Counsel, ------- 241 

Company, Choice of, ----- - 278 

Criticism, - - - - - - - 2 

Curiosity, ------- (j 

Current, ------- 166 

Deception, -------36 

Debts, 257 

Dissolving Views of Men, - - - - - 73 

Diversion, ------- 121 

Disappointment, - - - - - - 291 

Economy, ------- 40 

Education, ------- 106 

Eminence, ------- H 

Envy and Jealousy, ------ 164 

Enemies, ------- 168 

Estimates of Men, ------ 71 

Evidence, ------- 334 



11 INDEX 

Evil, Use of, 347 

Experience, ------- 33 

Extravagance, -------43 

Excuses, ------- 239 

Fancies and Opinions, ------ 69 

Fairness and Right, ... - . . 80 

Fashions, ------- 157 

False Inferences, ------ 206 

Family, ------ - 339 

Fevers, ------- 368 

Fictions of History, ------ 53 

Fiction of Values, ------ 61 

Fools, 215 

Friends and Friendship, ----- 185 

Freedom, ------- 229 

Great Men, ------- 268 

Habit, -------- 258 

Happiness, ------- 359 

Health, 279 

Hobbies, ------- 235 

Home, -------- 209 

Houses and Homes, ----- 341 

Ignorance and Learning, - - - - -12 

Impracticable, - - - - - - 216 

Impulses. ------- 207 

Imagination, ------ 84 

Impressions, ------- 343 

Inconsistencies, ------ 230 

Independence, - - - - - - - 234 

Ingratitude, ------- 236 

Instability, 252 

Industry, 284 

Irresolution, ------- 245 

Justice, ------- 266 

Labor, -------- 87 

Law and Equity, - - - - - - 122 

Large Men, -------78 

Liberality, 224 

Life and Death, 310 

Love, 234 

Love, Hate, etc., ------ 146 

Luck, 262 

Madness and Madmen, ------ 102 

Masters, 208 

Magnetism, - - - - - - - 226 

Marriage, ------- 301 

Motives, -------- 139 

Modesty, - - - - - - - 242 



INDEX. Ill 

Names. ------- 277 

Noted Men. Foibles, etc.. of, - - - - - 372 

Patience and Forbearance, ----- 233 

Persistence, -------31 

Philosophy. 78 

Phases in Conduct. ------ 147 

Power. ------- 159 

Popularity, ------- 319 

Precedent, ------- 4 

Prices. 211 

Presents. 239 

Prodigal. - - •- - - - 214 

Punishments, ------ 135 

Punctuality. 294 

Rascals. 203 

Reverence. -------34 

Reason and Unreason, ----- no 

Reputation, - - - - - - - 117 

Rectitude. ------- 222 

Resistance, ------- 212 

Reticence and Reserve. ----- 321 

Revenge, -------- 260 

Science and the Professions, ----- 353 

Self-Sufficiency, 37 

Self-Control, 58 

Select Sentiments, - - - - - 91, 171, 345 

Selfishness, ------- 157 

Secrecy, 299 

Shams. -------- 49 

Silence, ------- 241 

Sin, Nature of, - - - - - - - 351 

Strategy. ------- 7 

Study of Life, ------- 1 

Success. 326 

Sympathy, 369 

Talk. - 95 

Thinking, - - - - - - - 170 

Time, 297 

Trifles, 130 

Truth. ------- 250 

Troubles, ------- 323 

Truth and Propriety, - - - - - • - 195 

Vanity of Fame, --_... 4.Q 

Vicarious Suffering, - 244 

Wants, 167 

Wealth. 178 

"Whims, --------65 























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